


Together We Fall Apart

by Night_Fracturer



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Brotherly Bonding, Dadza, Domestic, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protectiveness, Redemption, Self-Hatred, Whump, awesamdad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 88,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Fracturer/pseuds/Night_Fracturer
Summary: “He’s so different from what Phil remembers of Dream.He used to be cool and confident, and extremely intimidating when he wanted to be. He seemed untouchable, like he wasn’t afraid of anything.But this Dream is the complete opposite. He’s small and fragile, always expecting something bad to happen. This Dream is terrified of people and has mental breakdowns and hesitates to open the curtains a bit more even when Phil nods in approval.”Or, Dream gets thrown in the prison for his crimes, comes out different, and Phil comes to the realization that he’s adopted a fourth son.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 597
Kudos: 3236
Collections: Best of Hurt/Comfort





	1. Dream has a Bad Time

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t my first fanfiction, I’ve been writing for years, but this is the first one I’ve ever made public. Hopefully I’ll work up the courage to post some of my other works.  
> Also, this was originally going to be a vent fic but then it kinda evolved as I added more and more. That’s why the beginning is pretty bad but it gets better the further you read.  
> Enjoy. 💜

Dream has been stuck in the prison for a long time.

He’s not sure how long. Years could have passed for all he knows, or maybe just a few days. It feels like an eternity since he’s seen daylight, or any light at all. 

The cell doesn’t have any light and the walls are a dark obsidian. He can barely see his own hand in front of his face. He’s not sure he would recognize his own hands anymore. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There was supposed to be light and activities to do. Prisoners were supposed to be let outside regularly. But the prison was never finished. They threw Dream in there before that could happen. 

Dream grips the front of his torn and dirty hoodie with bloodied hands. They threw him in here, everyone. Not a single person spoke out against his friends as they dragged him kicking and screaming into the cell. His best friends, George and Sapnap, had locked him in personally, not an ounce of remorse anywhere in sight. 

They haven’t come to see him since. Nobody has.

Not when he pounded on the rough obsidian walls until he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. Not when he had screamed until he couldn’t anymore. Not when he stopped eating the bread that was always automatically delivered. Not when he stopped sleeping. Not when he threw his mask against a wall and let it shatter. Not when he gave up.

Now all he can do is huddle in one of the dark corners of the room and stare blankly into shadows. He barely thinks about anything anymore. He knows he did horrible things, knows he deserves this. He can’t really remember anything specific anymore. The only thing he can’t seem to forget is the looks on their faces as they left him behind. The cold indifference.

He wishes he could go back to the way it was before. Even if he can’t quite remember before, he remembers it was the happiest he had ever been, and he yearns to feel something besides pain and crushing loneliness.

Dream doesn’t realize he’s asleep until he’s woken suddenly by a lot of light and noise. It’s disorienting and overwhelming. He hasn’t seen light since the door closed long ago and the only noise in the cell is his own faint breathing and weak heartbeat. 

Dragging his eyes open, Dream squints against the harsh light pouring in. He sees a vague silhouette, several of them actually. He hears voices echoing through the room and it makes his ears hurt. He doesn’t know what they’re saying. 

There’s a loud clanging sound and then a figure comes rushing towards him. Most of the light is blocked by someone kneeling in front of him. Dream is so tired that at first he doesn’t realize that he’s not alone anymore. 

Then something brushes one of the long, matted clumps of hair from his face. Dream glances up and his vision clears just enough to figure out who the person in front of him is. 

It’s George. 

Suddenly it all comes rushing back. George and Sapnap dragging him into a cell, leaving him behind, the expressions on their faces. 

Dream flinches away from the gentle touch that feels like fire now. With a hitched breath, he curls into himself as much as he can, bringing an arm up to shield his head, the other clutching at his hoodie. His lungs struggle to keep up with his racing heart. 

“Dream?” He hears George ask, and if he wasn’t so out of it he might’ve noticed the crack in his voice. 

George reaches out to touch his arm, but as soon as he makes contact, Dream flinches away again with a tiny, strangled noise. His body starts to shake. 

He’s expecting more pain. There’s no other reason that George would come back except to hurt him more. He already made it clear that he doesn’t care about Dream, that none of them do. 

Someone else walks up to Dream but he doesn’t notice. There’s a splash and then a strange smell, and before Dream knows it he’s fast asleep once again.

He wakes up in a bed some time later. It’s very comfortable, and for a moment he simply basks in how nice it feels before abruptly realizing he doesn’t know where he is. 

With a jolt, Dream snaps his eyes open and frantically peers around. It’s dark, but not nearly as dark as the cell that he had come to know far too well. He thinks it must be nighttime. 

He’s in a house, the community house, he realizes. The same house he had built with… But it’s not his home anymore. It hasn’t been his home for a long time. 

He hasn’t had a real home in years. 

He doesn’t even recognize the place anymore. The crafting table floors have been replaced with green carpet, the stairs look a lot less rickety than they did before, even the doors look like they’ve been touched up. 

But most notably of all is the chair sitting right beside the bed that Dream currently occupies. In the chair sits George, arms crossed and snoring lightly. He’s wearing casual clothes, not like the full netherite armor Dream had grown accustomed to seeing on him and Sapnap both. 

Dream’s immediate reaction is dread. He’s not sure why he’s no longer in the prison, but George could throw him right back in at any minute. Or maybe Sapnap will walk in at any moment and do it instead. 

Gripping the blanket until his knuckles turn white, Dream notices that his hands are bandaged. He finds that his other injuries have also been wrapped or treated and his hoodie has been replaced with a new, clean one. 

Sickening realization washes over him. They must have taken him out just to heal him, and then once he’s decent enough they’re going to throw him right back in. Just enough care to keep him alive for a while longer. An endless cycle. 

Fear like ice cold water rushes through his body. He needs to get out of here before George wakes up or someone else walks in.

With shaking, fragile hands, Dream quietly lifts the blanket and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet hit soft carpet and he has to force himself not to linger on the feeling. He sees his boots and a fresh pair of socks resting by one of the doors. 

He can’t stop shaking as he tries to stand up on legs he hasn’t used in a while and makes his way as quietly as possible to the door. He constantly glances over at George nervously as he goes. He doesn’t want to think of what’s going to happen if he’s caught. 

Somehow he manages to get to the door without incident and leans against the wall to quickly put his socks and boots on. Fighting the tremors in his hands, Dream opens and closes the door, wincing at the rattling of the doorknob. 

With a small sigh of relief that grates on his throat, Dream turns to face the world. 

He freezes in place when he sees just how much everything has changed. Many of the familiar old landmarks are still there, but now there’s so much more as well. There are small automatic farms he doesn’t recognize, towers and buildings that he’s never seen before. 

Just how long was he in the prison? How much did he miss? 

The sound of voices snaps Dream out of his thoughts quickly. The fear comes back in force, and he doesn’t realize he’s running until he’s already heading toward the nether portal. 

Ever since the first war, Dream had trained himself into always responding with fight instead of flight like he often used before. Running was good for manhunts, but in this world running gets you killed. He was forced to learn that early on. 

So it’s odd that he would automatically choose flight now instead of fight. Maybe it’s the absolute terror driving him, or maybe the prison completely broke him. All he knows is he needs to get away now.

Just as he reaches the portal and the swirling purple aura begins to consume him, he looks back and finds the source of the voices. It’s Sapnap and Bad, talking to each other in hushed tones as they walk down one of the paths to the community house. 

Dream sees Sapnap reach for the doorknob. By the time Sapnap starts yelling in panic, he’s already long gone.

The trip through the nether is absolute hell on Dream. He has no protective gear and everything is far too bright to his still sensitive eyes. The bandages are quickly covered in ash or burnt away completely and he has to stop multiple times so he doesn’t pass out from exhaustion. 

He veers off the wide obsidian path as soon as possible. The thought of running into someone terrifies him, and he never wants to see obsidian ever again. 

He wanders past endless netherack and lava, trying his best to get far, far away from any of the paths and other portals. 

He must have passed out at some point because he finds himself on the ground near a bastion that he doesn’t remember finding. His joints ache more than normal after that, but he presses on anyway.

Dream doesn’t know how long he’s been walking for. He hasn’t eaten anything since he woke up which must have been at least a day ago. He hasn’t had any water either, and he feels like he’s turning to dust with every step.

He finds a warped tree forest and goes looking for something to eat. Raw mushrooms taste disgusting, but Dream’s stomach is willing to force him to eat anything at this point. 

But just as he goes to grab a large green mushroom that he’s sure he’s going to vomit right back up, he glances up and finds himself right in front of a nether portal.

It’s well hidden among the trees so he hasn’t noticed it until now. At first he’s nervous, thinking someone could walk through it at any point. But then he remembers how far he walked to get here.

This portal is so far away from L’Manburg. It has to lead to someone else’s world, or maybe it was abandoned. Either way, it’s the only portal he’s come across in a long while and he really wants to get out of the nether. 

George and Sapnap are far, far away, he reminds himself firmly, pushing the fear to the back of his mind for now. 

Dream goes through the portal.

Dream trudges through seemingly endless snow, shivering so hard he might fall over. It’s far too cold for the simple hoodie he’s wearing, and he’s as thin as a twig, so the cold is particularly biting. 

The snow doesn’t even reach that far up, barely a few inches, but it’s difficult to walk through and he’s starving to death. 

Frantically trying to rub feeling back into his arms, Dream ignores the fact that he has no idea where he is or where he’s going. 

It’s getting dark quickly. He must’ve been in the nether for at least a full day.

He’s so tired.

He finds some small amount of comfort in the familiarity of being in a forest. The sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling is heavenly after so long without hearing anything. He wishes he had the strength to run and climb like he used to, back before everything else…

Back when it was just him, George, and Sapnap. Back when they would chase each other across the world, laughing so hard they cried. When there were no wars and Dream was a good person. He’s not a good person anymore, if he ever was. 

He may not be in the prison, but he’s far enough away from L’Manburg that there’s no way he can screw things up anymore even if he wanted to. Everyone is safe from him.

Hopefully they’ll just forget about him entirely. Maybe then he can find peace. He’ll do anything as long as he doesn’t end up back in that prison. 

If that means never seeing his friends again, then so be it. They clearly don’t consider him a friend anymore anyway. 

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t see the skeleton until there’s already an arrow embedded in his back. He falls to the ground with a choked cry of pain. Peering over his shoulder, his eyes widen as he spots not one but three skeletons advancing on him, arrows ready to fire.

Scrambling to get up, Dream runs for it. The pain radiating from somewhere on his back makes him stumble. 

Another arrow hits him right below his shoulder. He doesn’t fall that time, but it’s a close thing. Lungs heaving, he runs as fast as his weak legs will take him. An arrow flies by his head and embeds itself in the tree in front of him. He runs faster.

There’s a break in the trees and Dream’s stomach drops. There are mobs surrounding him on all sides and a mountain to his left. There’s nowhere else to go but forward. 

He makes it only a few paces into the clearing before a creeper comes out of nowhere and he’s being launched into the air.

Dream blacks out for a second, and when he opens his eyes he’s on the ground. Everything hurts, his vision is swimming. He’s getting the sudden urge to throw up.  
The snow bites at his exposed skin, making his burns flare up in pain. 

He’s so tired.

He vaguely registers the zombie lumbering towards him, can smell rotting flesh and death. 

All he can think about is how he doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t know how many lives he has left, but if he dies now he’s going to respawn back in the bed he woke up in and George and Sapnap will be there—

They’re going to take him back to the prison and he’s going to be in so much more pain—

He doesn’t want to die.

Just as the thought pops into his head, there’s a blur of motion and suddenly the zombie is dead, collapsing to the ground lifelessly.

In its place stands a man, and through his hazy vision all Dream can see is the color green and a pair of dark wings. 

His consciousness must fade out for a minute because suddenly the man is gone. He hears fighting, a sword cutting through air and then bones. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s not dead yet so it can’t be too bad. 

Dream slowly flexes his fingers, letting out a breathless wheeze when the motion tugs at the arrow below his shoulder. He can barely move at all. It’s like he’s back at the prison all over again, unable to do anything but lie there and stare into the darkness—

And just like at the prison, something brushes against his skin and he flinches violently at the unexpected touch. He instinctively curls into himself, his body reacting on its own. For a moment, he thinks maybe George found him and he flinches again in fear. Blearily looking up, Dream locks eyes with not George but Philza. 

The winged man looks concerned, his wings twitching nervously. Dream has only talked to Phil a few times in passing, not enough to really leave any kind of impression. 

Phil wasn’t there when they locked Dream away. He wasn’t a part of any of that. Phil doesn’t even live in L’Manburg or anywhere near it. 

“Dream? Is that you?” 

Dream remembers that he doesn’t have his mask anymore. The grip he has on his hair tightens painfully. Now that he’s been reminded of its absence, he feels exposed without it. Only a handful of people have seen his face before, and always by his own choice. He doesn’t get a choice this time. 

He must take too long to answer because Phil suddenly reaches out again. Dream watches his hand come closer slowly and he tenses, prepared for some kind of pain to follow.

But Phil simply rests his hand on Dream’s arm and keeps it there, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. Dream can feel a tingling sensation radiating from Phil’s grip. He’s not sure if it’s a bad feeling or not, but it only takes a second or two for Dream to involuntarily relax under the touch. 

He makes some kind of noise, scratchy from his dry, unused throat. Phil shushes him gently. 

“Everything’s going to be okay. You can rest. I’ll take care of you.” 

A few hours ago, Dream wouldn’t have believed him, but now that he’s hurt and desperate for any kind of positive attention he’s all too willing to shut his eyes and surrender himself to sleep.


	2. Heartbroken

Phil is heartbroken.

As Dream goes completely limp before him, Phil’s thoughts race. 

Dream looks like death. He’s far too thin, like he hasn’t eaten anything in months and is turning into a skeleton before his eyes. Where his hoodie used to fit him snugly, it now hangs off his body loosely, barely hanging on. 

He’s also covered in bandages, most of them torn and stained grey with ash or red with blood. There are burns in some places too, but luckily they’re small and not very harsh. 

His hair is clumped with so much grime and dirt that it looks almost black, barely any of the usual blonde peeking out. He’s extremely pale, almost as ghostly as Ghostbur. The extremely dark bags under his eyes aren’t much better. 

Phil has never seen Dream without his mask. He was under the impression that Dream never took it off, even in front of close friends, but here he is without a mask in sight. 

And the way he had cowered in fear, flinched away from Phil like he was going to get hit—

When he heard the creeper explosion and came over to investigate, he never expected to find someone so close to death’s door, especially not Dream. 

One question plagues his mind. What the hell happened to Dream? 

Phil glances worriedly at the labored rise and fall of Dream’s chest and the two arrows sticking out of his back. He can find answers later. For now, Dream is in desperate need of help.

Careful not to jostle Dream too much, Phil hoists the injured man up. He maneuvers Dream so he’s partly over Phil’s shoulder and his gangly long legs are held securely to Phil’s chest. 

Dream might be far too light, but he’s significantly taller than Phil. Plus, he doesn’t want to put too much pressure on the open wounds in his back. 

Once Phil is confident that Dream isn’t going to fall, he spreads his wings and launches himself into the air. 

Luckily Phil’s house is pretty close by, right on the edge of the nearest mountain. It’s a nice little place with lots of extra space in case his kids ever want to visit. Ghostbur likes to pop up every now and then, and Techno has stopped by a handful of times as well. He hasn’t been able to get Tommy to visit yet, but Phil is confident he’ll show up eventually.

Hopefully not anytime soon though, he thinks with a wince as a particularly strong downstroke jostles Dream, causing his breath to hitch. 

With the way Dream was acting a minute ago, he doubts the man will be up for visitors for a while. 

Phil touches down on the cobblestone path leading up to his house. He tries to make the landing as gentle as possible, but Dream still ends up whimpering in pain, weakly gripping the back of Phil’s coat. 

He hurries inside, setting Dream down on the couch in the living room. He has to set Dream down with his back up so Phil can reach the arrows there, but he doesn’t like the way it hinders Dream’s breathing. He should probably work quickly.

Phil rushes to grab anything that might be useful, muttering under his breath as he goes. Gapples, bandages, fresh water, anything and everything. He dumps everything on the table and gets to work.

He has to cut through Dream’s hoodie. It’s covered in blood and burns anyway, so it was going in the trash anyway. The arrows are swiftly pulled out, the bleeding stopped, and the wounds cleaned, stitched, and wrapped. 

He moves on to the many other wounds that Dream sports. They’re all fairly small and only need to be cleaned and bandaged again. All of the soiled bandages get tossed on the floor. He’ll clean it all up later, after Dream is tended to.

Phil is most concerned about Dream’s hands. They’re heavily bruised and bloodied. Luckily nothing is broken, but Phil suspects some of the bones might be fractured. He wraps Dream’s hands with extra care, even bracing a few of his fingers just in case. He’d rather not deal with broken bones, and he suspects Dream wouldn’t be happy about it either.

Once he’s done tending to Dream’s wounds, he turns him on his side so he’ll be more comfortable and then gets up to stretch. He needs to wait for Dream to wake up before he can have any regeneration potions or gapples, so he’s done everything he can for now. With a sigh, Phil begins the cleaning process. 

As he throws away all the old bandages and wipes down the table and floor, Phil catches himself glancing at Dream quite often. He notices the little things he didn’t before.

Dream has freckles, he realizes. They’re barely visible on his too-pale skin, but they’re there. Without his hoodie, Phil can easily see how malnourished Dream is by the way he can count every single one of his ribs. He notices the way Dream will occasionally twitch or start trembling in his sleep. 

When Phil runs a hand through Dream’s horribly matted hair, he notices the way Dream unconsciously leans into the touch. 

Not for the first or the second time tonight, Phil wonders what the hell happened to reduce the infamous Dream to this state. 

Phil knows he’s not going to be getting any sleep tonight, so he pulls a chair over towards the couch and reaches for a pair of scissors. Hopefully Dream’s hair can be saved, he thinks with a light grimace. 

It takes a while, mostly because Phil is trying very hard to not cut off too much, but eventually Dream’s hair looks more or less like it did before. He still needs to take a very thorough shower, and it’s a little shorter than Phil remembers it, but it’s not too bad. Especially considering Phil has never cut someone else’s hair before. He’s pretty proud of himself.

After he cleans up all the hair, Phil picks out a book and makes himself comfortable.

He figures he’s going to be waiting for a long time, so he might as well catch up on some reading.

Dream finally wakes up a day later. It’s only long enough to frantically chug an entire bottle of water (despite Phil’s protests) and eat a few bites of a gapple before passing out again, but it’s something. 

Phil is glad that he has some kind of nutrients in him now. It would be embarrassing if Phil did all that work to keep Dream alive only for him to die of dehydration or starvation. 

It’s that thought that drives Phil to carry Dream upstairs to one of the four guest bedrooms (one for each of his three kids plus an extra one just in case) and get him situated in bed. That way, if Dream does end up dying, he’ll respawn here instead of wherever it is he came from. He doubts it’s anywhere good. 

He puts Dream in Wilbur’s old room. It’s a cozy little space with one of the nicest views in the house. Hopefully Dream will like it as much as Wil did. 

In the meantime, Phil does a lot of reading. He finds a lot of useful information in the handful of cookbooks he owns. Dream is going to gain back all his weight and then some if Phil has anything to say about it. 

Phil even risks a short trip to the nearby village to get Dream a new hoodie. It’s a bit small and a different shade of green than Dream usually wears, but it’s better than nothing. He also picks up some more clothes for his guest including many comfortable pairs of pants, some shirts, a very fluffy coat, and a new pair of boots. 

It’s only after Phil has already bought everything and is flying back to his house that he realizes he’s acting a lot like a parent. It makes a lot of sense, actually.

Phil hasn’t taken care of someone in a long time. All his sons flew the coop years ago, and the house has been very empty since then. It’s nice to have someone to watch over again, even if Dream isn’t his son and doesn’t really have the choice to leave.

Dream obviously needs help, and Phil is all too willing to provide. 

Two days later, Dream wakes up again. He’s a lot more coherent this time, and so things don’t go as smoothly as Phil had hoped.

Dream ends up huddled in the small space between the bed and the dresser, hyperventilating. As soon as he woke up and realized Phil was there, he had scrambled to put as much distance between himself and Phil as he could. 

It’s just like when Phil first found him and he had flinched away in a panic, except this time he’s a lot less exhausted and therefore a lot more terrified.

Fortunately, Phil does manage to calm Dream down enough to breathe properly. From there, it’s more difficult to get him to come out of the little hiding spot, but the promise of food seems to be too much to resist. 

Phil leaves briefly to get Dream something to eat and when he returns he finds Dream huddled against the corner of the bed instead. He still looks terrified, but Phil will take any bit of progress he can get. 

When Phil sets a plate full of an assortment of fruits, vegetables, cheese, and crackers in front of him, Dream’s eyes get so big Phil worries they’ll pop out of his head. 

He digs right in, wolfing down the entire plate alarmingly fast despite the many braces and bandages on his hands. Phil notes that the only thing he doesn’t touch is the little chunk of bread off to the side. He reminds himself not to give Dream bread. 

By the time he’s done, Dream seems to have accepted Phil’s presence and very hesitantly explores the room. He glances at Phil almost every other second, either making sure he hasn’t moved or silently asking if he’s doing something wrong. 

He’s so different from what Phil remembers of Dream. He used to be cool and confident, and extremely intimidating when he wanted to be. He seemed untouchable, like he wasn’t afraid of anything.

But this Dream is the complete opposite. He’s small and fragile, always looking for and expecting something bad to happen. This Dream is terrified of people and has mental breakdowns and hesitates to open the curtains a bit more even when Phil nods in approval.

While Dream stares out the window mesmerized, Phil pretends to read his book and tries his best to exude calm and kindness. He fondly remembers acting a lot like this when he first adopted Techno, and it worked then so it’s his best bet now.

It’s a few minutes later when Dream suddenly speaks up. 

“Y-you’re no-ot gonna s-send me back?” He sounds like he swallowed gravel and Phil winces internally.   
He glances up at Dream and finds him staring at Phil nervously, switching between looking at the floor then at Phil then back at the floor.

He tilts his head curiously. “Back where? L’Manburg?” 

Dream grabs his arms in a grip that looks painful, curling into himself again. 

“T-he prison.”

Phil’s heart skips a beat. Someone put Dream in a prison? And he turned out like this?! Who the hell would do something so horrible? 

How bad is this prison to make someone as powerful as Dream so scared of people? To reduce someone to a pile of bones like Dream is now?

“No. You’re never going back there, Dream. I promise.” 

Dream looks up at him with such tentative, flickering hope that Phil melts at the sight. 

It’s at that exact moment that Phil decides he’s not going to let anything happen to Dream again. 

The next time Dream is awake, Phil gives him a tour of the house. Dream keeps his distance the entire time, and spends a lot of time watching Phil carefully instead of what Phil is trying to show him. 

He hugs the walls, often leaning against them heavily when he gets tired or needs to take a minute to breathe. He refuses to go into any of the rooms with doors, and he’s especially fearful of the basement. Phil assures him multiple times that Dream doesn’t have to go anywhere near it if he doesn’t want to. He’s not sure Dream entirely believes him. 

He seems to really like the deck overlooking one of the steepest parts of the mountain. He spends a long time simply enjoying the view, breathing in fresh air. Phil gives him all the time in the world. 

Once the tour is done, Phil begins making dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Dream. After some deliberation, Dream eventually plops himself down on the floor in front of the big glass doors leading out to the deck. Phil considers telling him he can go outside or leave the doors open if he wants but decides against it for now. He looks peaceful, and Phil would hate to ruin that. 

Dream doesn’t say a word all day, and Phil respects that. He keeps up the conversation on his own, even while they’re eating dinner and he knows Dream isn’t listening to a word he’s saying (after raising Techno, he’s an expert at keeping up conversation). It’s nice to just listen to someone talk sometimes, and he assumes Dream hasn’t had anyone to talk to in a while.

Dream eats just as ravenously as he did the last time. Phil is glad. If Dream’s appetite keeps up like this then he’ll be back to full strength in no time. 

After dinner, Dream is exhausted. Making sure to keep a respectful distance, Phil guides him up the stairs to Wilbur’s old room so he can get some sleep. 

Dream is hesitant to go through the door, and although Phil has no idea what Dream has been through, he makes an assumption.

“I’ll leave the door open for you, if you want.” 

He gives Phil a look, like he’s searching for some kind of lie in the words. He must not find anything because he nods and sleepily shuffles into the room.

Phil watches him collapse onto the bed fondly. Jeez, Phil already has it bad doesn’t he? At this rate he’s never letting Dream out of his sight. He might as well adopt him now. 

He wonders idly what Techno would think. He already has an idea of what Tommy would say to this and not for the first time he’s glad the kid isn’t here. 

With a little shake of his head, Phil reaches over and turns off the light, but when he turns to leave he hears Dream let out a whimper.

Immediately, he whirls around to see what’s wrong, Dream is curled up under the covers with his arms braced over his head in a way that’s becoming all too familiar. Phil can barely see Dream’s fearful eyes watching him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks gently. 

Dream opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out, like his voice has been locked away. He whimpers again and curls up tighter. 

Frantically, Phil searches the room for something that could be causing distress. It takes a minute for his eyes to land on the light switch he just flipped. 

He flips the light on again. Immediately, Dream relaxes. He doesn’t uncurl from his protective ball entirely, but he does lower his arms so Phil can see his face clearly again. He gives Phil a grateful look. 

Phil’s heart breaks all over again. 

“Here, I’ll go get you some lamps.” 

Rushing off to go grab some of the lamps from the other boys’ rooms, Phil returns with three dusty old lamps. 

Aware of Dream’s gaze following him, Phil sets one lamp on the desk beside the bed, another inside the little closet by the opposite corner, and the third by the foot of the bed. He plugs them all in and turns them on.

When Phil reaches for the light switch again, he catches Dream’s nervous look and gives him a reassuring smile. 

This time when the light goes off the lamps still illuminate most of the room. It’s not nearly as bright as the main light, so it should be easier to sleep. 

Dream doesn’t curl up this time, instead flicking his eyes to the lamps around the room. 

“Is this okay? I can keep the light on if you prefer…”  
Briefly, Dream looks at the light switch beside Phil, then back at the lamps, then to Phil again. Hesitantly, he nods. 

“You sure, mate?”

Dream nods again, this time a little more confidently. Phil smiles.

“Okay. See you tomorrow then. Sweet dreams.”

Phil is about to turn to leave when he catches what he’s said. He almost goes to apologize, but when he looks at Dream he finds a tiny smile on his face. 

Phil goes to bed feeling satisfied. He really does have it bad.


	3. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sudden change in paragraph spacing. I might go back and fix the first two chapters to match, who knows.   
> This chapter is a bit shorter just cuz the next chapter is gonna be way cooler and I didn’t want to split it up.   
> Enjoy 💜

Phil starts making a mental list of things Dream does and doesn’t like. Over the next few days, it comes in handy a few times. 

He knows Dream is terrified of darkness, closed doors, windowless rooms, complete silence, and any mention of obsidian. A mental picture of what this prison must look like starts forming in Phil’s mind and he doesn’t like what he sees at all. 

Dream is scared of people, especially people touching him. The first time Phil mentioned the nearby village and the people he trades with there, Dream had one of the worst panic attacks he’s ever seen. It took a long time to finally calm him down, hindered by the fact that Phil had accidentally touched him at first in an attempt at comfort, which only made things worse. 

Dream hates bread. He refuses to even acknowledge it exists most of the time. Other times he expresses flat out revulsion at the simple food item. Phil is careful to hide the bread from Dream’s sight. 

He learns that although Dream hates darkness and soundless places, too much light or sound can also be very overwhelming. When he figured that out, Phil had immediately flown down to the village for some earmuffs and sunglasses, in case Dream starts to go into sensory overload again. He’s extra careful to make sure the earmuffs don’t cancel all sound, just some of it. Dream seemed to appreciate it and usually keeps the earmuffs around his neck now. 

On the flip side, Phil also figures out what makes Dream happy.

He knows Dream likes being outside, especially climbing and running around. He usually doesn’t have the energy to do those things, but when he does he’s the happiest man in the world. 

Phil remembers seeing some of Dream’s skills in tournaments. He’s glad Dream can achieve some kind of normalcy again, even if Phil is constantly worried about him getting hurt. Boys will be boys, and Dream is so rarely happy that Phil can never find it in himself to stop him.

He likes warm, comfy clothes. Phil supposes everyone likes warm, comfy clothes, but Dream especially seems to hoard them with a passion. That isn’t the only thing he hoards either. Where before Dream had almost no personal possessions, preferring to have nothing that could be used against him, now he collects anything that manages to hold his interest for a few seconds.

This includes shiny rocks, interesting leaves, flowers, bones, pieces of junk Phil finds in the river, old jewelry, cool banners, and more. It’s like he’s made it his mission to cover every inch of Wilbur’s room with stuff. 

He notes that Dream stays far away from the jukebox and music discs in the living room, but whenever Phil plays the music he will drift closer, soothed by the relaxing melodies. Dream’s favorite song seems to be Chirp, although he also enjoys Cat, Mellohi, and Pigstep as well. 

He likes helping Phil with his little farm. He always takes extra care with the potatoes, and since Phil gave him permission to eat as much food as he wants he often munches on sweet berries as he picks them. 

Over the short amount of time Phil gets to know Dream, they grow closer. Dream doesn’t keep as much distance between them anymore and Phil often has to stop himself from referring to Dream as son.

Phil always sees so much of his sons in Dream. He sees Techno in the way he cares for the crops with such laser focus. He sees Wilbur in the way music always seems to calm him, sometimes even drawing out those tiny smiles Dream so rarely has. He sees Tommy in the way he scarfs down every piece of food placed in front of him, the way he seems to throw Phil’s life into chaos in the best way. 

But Phil has to remind himself that Dream isn’t his son. He’s just a man in need of a helping hand. It’s better to keep it that way. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Phil is harvesting carrots. 

They’re still pretty small, a result of the sudden snow that’s only just finished melting. They’re still good carrots though. He’ll probably use them for cooking instead of trading with them in the village. It’s not like he’s short on emeralds, he has several blocks of the stuff in his ender chest. He just enjoys trading with the villagers. They usually have some pretty cool stuff that most other villages don’t. 

His basket is almost full by now. There’s another basket, much less full, resting closer to the house. Dream had quickly abandoned the basket and the carrots entirely in favor of chasing some wild chickens through the forest. He then quickly abandoned his chase in favor of climbing and goofing around in the trees. 

Phil has no idea what he’s up to now. He lost sight of Dream a while ago, but he’s not concerned. 

Despite his wounds being mostly healed by this point, Dream never leaves. He might disappear into the forest for an hour or two, but he always comes back. Maybe it’s because Phil gives him food or maybe it’s something else, but he thinks it’s safe to say Dream isn’t leaving anytime soon. 

Phil sits back with a huff. He’s been working on his miniature farm all day now and he’s sweaty and tired. He flaps his wings a bit, relishing in the small gust of cool air. 

Just when he’s considering leaving the rest of the carrots for tomorrow, a shriek echoes through the forest. 

Phil is up in an instant, scanning the tree line for any sign of a threat. It occurs to him only after a few seconds that Dream is still out there and could very well be in trouble. 

“Dream!” He calls.

Phil doesn’t receive an answer. Dread settles in his stomach. He rushes over to his porch to quickly attach his sword to his hip. Then he’s running into the forest without a second thought. 

“Dream!” He calls again, searching all over for any sign of a green hoodie. For every second of silence that permeates through the forest, Phil grows increasingly worried.

“Ph-Phil.”

The voice is so soft that Phil almost misses it, but once he realizes Dream is calling his name he whips his head in the direction of the noise and runs for it. 

He finds Dream curled up on the forest floor, both hands clutching desperately at his ankle. Tears flow freely down his face. He looks up at Phil and his heart breaks as he sees the pure pain and fear in the boy’s eyes.

Phil skids to a stop beside Dream, his hands hovering uselessly. He leans forward to get a better look at Dream’s ankle.

But then Dream does something completely unexpected. He launches himself forward, right into Phil’s arms, and buries his face in Phil’s chest. 

Phil, stunned by the sudden clinginess, freezes up. Dream has been carefully keeping his distance from Phil for over a week now with no sign of that ever changing, but now here he is trying to get as close to Phil as possible. 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Dream sobs loudly, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. Startled but willing to do just about anything to calm him down, Phil wraps his arms around Dream, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. 

“Shhh. You’re okay, mate. I’ve got you.” 

Looking over Dream, Phil catches sight of the boy’s ankle. From the little bit he can see peeking out from beneath his pants, it looks red and a bit swollen. He grimaces at the sight, hoping there won’t be any broken bones involved. 

Phil gathers Dream up into his arms, trying his best not to jostle him too much. He winces when Dream lets out a whine and burrows further into Phil’s chest. 

It’s still awkward to carry Dream with him being so tall and gangly, but Phil manages to carry him through the forest back to the house. 

He doesn’t bother with attempting to get Dream upstairs to the bed, instead opting for the couch which is much easier to reach. But as soon as he tries to set Dream down, he clings to Phil tighter, clutching at him desperately like Phil is going to drop him over a ravine. 

“Dream, I need to set you down.”

Dream sobs again, tensing up. Phil completely breaks at the sight. 

“I promise I’m not going anywhere. I just need to check your ankle really quick,” he murmurs gently. 

Dream starts shaking, tremors running through his entire body, but he does relax his grip slightly. Phil takes the opportunity to put Dream down on the couch.

Instead of rushing all over the house to gather supplies, Phil stays crouched right beside the couch, allowing Dream to hold onto one of the sleeves of his coat. 

Phil smiles encouragingly at Dream, whose expression is twisted in pain, tears still flowing freely. He sees Dream relax just a bit more.

Turning his attention to Dream’s ankle, Phil carefully reaches over to roll up the end of his pant leg. Underneath, he finds a large collection of scratches. Mostly they’re normal scrapes someone would get from climbing and jumping around in the trees, but there are more closer to his foot that are bleeding or covered in splinters. 

Phil grimaces. He should get some kind of pain relief for Dream before he starts cleaning out the wounds. It’s not going to be a pleasant experience. 

With another grimace, Phil begins unlacing Dream’s boot, careful not to jostle the boy. Once that’s done, he has to slide the boot off. 

Dream gasps and tenses. His grip on Phil’s sleeve tightens considerably. When the boot is about halfway off he makes a strangled noise and bites down on the sleeve of his own hoodie. 

With every little noise of pain, Phil’s heart breaks again and again. 

The boot finally comes off and he sets it down with a sigh of relief. Dream’s sock comes off with much less agony and he’s grateful for that much. 

Now that Phil can see the full extent of the damage, he’s fairly sure Dream’s ankle isn’t broken. It’s probably badly sprained and looks just as painful as Dream is expressing, but it’s better than a break. 

Carefully extracting himself from Dream’s grip (despite his pained protests), Phil quickly gathers up everything he needs. Bandages, a brace, fresh water, tweezers, are all dumped on the table. Phil can’t help but think that this situation looks oddly familiar to when he first found Dream only a week ago. 

As soon as Phil takes a seat on the table, Dream reaches out for him again. Smiling despite himself, Phil scoots a little closer so Dream can latch onto his sleeve again. The boy looks exhausted and so, so sad.

Phil wonders idly when he started referring to Dream as a boy. 

He reaches over and picks up a gapple, handing it to Dream, who stares at it for a few moments. 

“Eat a few bites of this. Not the whole thing. That way it won’t hurt as much.”

Dream takes the gapple in his other hand, almost dropping it with how shaky he is. He starts nibbling on it, sniffling between bites. 

Phil nods encouragingly and then reaches for the tweezers. This is going to hurt, he thinks ruefully. 

Phil starts with the small splinters, pulling them out of Dream’s skin and dropping them on the edge of the table for him to clean up later. For the most part, Dream barley feels it and dutifully eats the gapple about halfway before putting on the table. Phil catches the way he stares at it longingly. 

He would let Dream eat the whole thing, but that would mean the splinters still embedded in him would be healed over and that would be far more painful in the long run. Once Phil is done cleaning out the wounds and wrapping them properly, then he can eat the rest and heal much faster. 

Phil loses himself in the task, dutifully pulling out every single splinter, cleaning the wounds, checking once more that there’s no broken bones, wrapping, and finally bracing Dream’s ankle. Dream himself had passed out at some point during the whole thing, probably while Phil was cleaning out the wounds. He doesn’t want to think about how much pain Dream must have been in for that. 

Dream holds onto his sleeve even in sleep. 

Phil has to carefully unlatch Dream’s fingers, lying his hand on the couch so Phil can get up and clean up the mess he’s made.

The splinters and bloody bandages are thrown away, the unfinished gapple set aside for later, and the table wiped down. And then, just like the last time, he takes Dream and deposits him in Wilbur’s old bed. 

Phil takes a second to simply watch Dream. He hasn’t even fully healed from his other wounds and he’s already getting hurt again so soon. It would almost be endearing if Phil didn’t worry so much. He hopes Dream doesn’t make a habit out of it. 

Phil is once again struck by how different Dream is now. He seems so small and vulnerable where before he was tall and intimidating, an unstoppable force of nature. 

Shaking his head, Phil goes to grab a book and a chair, just like before. This time he’s not sticking around because he’s worried Dream will start dying in his sleep, but because he wants to be there to comfort the boy when he wakes up. 

He wonders again when he started thinking of Dream as a boy. He really does get attached far too easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream, is sad: :(  
> Dadza, already bundling him up in five layers of blankets + his wings: My Boy


	4. Enter: Technoblade

After that day, Dream starts acting differently. 

Not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely noticeably different from the days before. 

He drifts closer to Phil more often, especially when he’s a little stressed or surprised, like he’s seeking comfort from Phil’s presence. He still likes to keep his distance most of the time, but whenever he comes closer Phil can’t help but spreads his wings a bit, like he’s offering a warm blanket. 

Dream can’t do a lot of things now that his ankle is hurt and still very painful to step on, so Phil has forbidden him from tending to the crops with him or messing around in the forest like he normally would. He doesn’t complain, but he does pout a little. As a result, he tends to spend most of his time in the following few days either trailing after Phil like a lost puppy or reading. Most of the time it’s the former as Dream often grows bored of books quickly. 

It’s only three days later when Phil is teaching Dream how to make the best rabbit stew of all time that Technoblade shows up.

It comes as a complete surprise to both of them when Techno suddenly walks right through the door unannounced. 

For a moment, all three of them are frozen, simply staring at each other in shock. Then Techno tilts his head in wonder at Dream. 

Dream gasps, the knife that he had been holding falls out of his shaking hands and clatters to the floor.  
Phil glances over just in time to see the absolute terror on his face before Dream rushes over to Phil to hide behind him, clinging to Phil’s coat desperately. Phil hears his little gasps as he tries to quiet down an obvious panic attack. He can feel Dream trembling even through the coat. 

“Dream?” Techno asks, baffled. 

He takes a step to the side, trying to peer around Phil.   
Before Phil can really think about what he’s doing, he spreads one of his wings to block Techno’s view. Dream flinches at the same time that Techno turns his shocked gaze to Phil, glancing between his face and the outstretched wing. He seems thoroughly taken aback, an expression he never thought he’d see on Techno’s face. 

“I can explain,” Phil says in a rush, prompting a raised eyebrow from Techno. 

Phil lets out a long sigh. “Can you sit down please? You’re scaring him.” 

Techno spares another glance at Phil’s wing as if looking at it hard enough will let him see Dream through the feathers. Then he trudges over to the living room and plops down on the couch. Phil is grateful for the way he takes the seat farthest from them. 

Phil turns to peer over his shoulder the best he can, catching a glimpse of Dream’s hair. 

“Hey Dream,” he murmurs gently. He sees Dream turn his head and assumes he’s looking at Phil. He can still feel the way he’s shaking all over. “Can you join us on the couch? I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

For a moment Dream is silent, besides his too-quick breathing. He expects a nod or a shake of the head maybe. Dream talks so rarely that Phil is used to it. But this time he decides to speak up.

“H-he’s gonna se-end me bac-ck?” Dream stutters out, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears. 

Phil’s heart breaks. 

He turns so he can face Dream directly and Dream briefly lets go of his coat to let him. He panics a bit, looking fearfully in Techno’s direction, but Phil’s spread his wings so neither of them can see each other. 

Phil holds his arms out, a clear invitation, and Dream takes it without hesitation, burying his face in Phil’s chest with a whimper. Phil wraps his arms around Dream, rubbing his hand up and down his back comfortingly. He smiles as Dream relaxes against him. 

“Techno’s not going to send you back. And what did I tell you before, huh? You’re never going back there. Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

Dream relaxes further, and Phil knows he’s hit the mark. 

Even if Techno wanted to take Dream back to the prison he came from, there’s no way Phil is going to stand back and let it happen. Techno may be the best fighter Phil has ever seen, even winning against Dream, but even he is no match for an angry Philza trying to protect his wards. 

And Dream is his ward, as much as he’s hesitant to admit it. He would do anything to protect the boy, even if that means fighting his son. Because Techno can handle himself just fine without Phil, but Dream is so fragile now and likely wouldn’t last long without Phil’s help. 

“Do you think you can join us on the couch? You can go upstairs instead if you’d like.” 

Dream shakes his head even as it’s still pressed into Phil’s chest, and Phil smiles to himself. 

“Okay, mate.”

Phil takes Dream’s hand in his. Dream squeezes his hand tightly and Phil takes that as his invitation to move. 

He keeps his wing up between Techno and Dream even as he guides a still-limping Dream to the couch. By the way Dream’s other hand presses against his feathers, he’d say the gesture is appreciated. If Techno notices the limp, he doesn’t mention it, thankfully.

Phil takes a seat and Dream folds his long limbs up beside him, burying himself in Phil’s wing. Techno sees his green hoodie clearly, but every other part of Dream is hidden. It looks a little ridiculous, but if it makes Dream feel safer then Phil isn’t going to take that away from him. Both Phil and Techno can see Dream visibly shaking, but that isn’t mentioned either.

“So,” Techno begins, purposefully ignoring the way Dream flinches at the sound of his voice, “care to explain?”

Phil sighs. “Dream has been living here for about a week now. I found him out in the woods near the portal, near death.”

Techno looks surprised, a strange look to see on a face that’s usually so stoic. 

“He mentioned a prison,” Phil says, and both Dream and Techno flinch at the statement. He feels Dream grip a bunch of Phil’s feathers, not tugging or crushing them, just holding them.

Techno shakes his head, crosses his arms, and sinks further into the couch. Now he looks more resigned than anything. He clearly knows something, so Phil gestures for him to say something.

“Sam started building this prison a while ago. I heard Dream was the one to commission it to be inescapable.” 

Dream curls up tighter behind him and Phil does not like the way this story is going, but he allows Techno to continue anyway.

“Then a bunch of people decided to throw Dream in the prison. I wasn’t there so I don’t know who did it or why. Dream was in there for a few weeks, maybe longer, and they decided to let him out. I wasn’t there for that either, but from what I heard, Dream was in bad shape and George took him back to the community house. Then he disappeared. People have been rushing around trying to find him since.” 

Techno’s gaze slides over to the huddled, shaking form of Dream, still hiding behind Phil. “But I guess this is where he ended up.” 

Phil wonders what it must be like for Techno, seeing Dream like this. The two used to spar together, before L’manburg and the endless wars that ravaged the lands. 

They used to go to tournaments together, and although they were usually on different teams they still had fun constantly trying to one-up each other. They even had a 1v1 duel for more money than Phil will ever see in his lifetime and came out of it laughing, the money split evenly between them. 

And now Techno is a hardened warrior fighting to end government tyranny and Dream is a traumatized boy who can’t look at a person without having a panic attack. 

Phil hasn’t seen either of them genuinely happy without a care in the world in so long. 

“Dream,” Phil calls gently, moving his wing to lightly jostle him. Dream lets go of his feathers and glances up. The boy is a mess. He looks terrified, on the verge of tears, his eyes a bit red. If this is the kind of reaction that he gets around Techno, Phil can’t imagine what would happen if he were to run into someone who was actually there when Dream was put in the prison. “Techno’s not gonna take you back.”

Both Techno and Dream’s eyes widen almost comically. 

“Wha— Of course I’m not taking you back there. I don’t know what they think you did to deserve getting locked in that place—“ he sneers, disgusted at the actions of Dream’s former friends, “but there’s no way I’m letting you go anywhere near L’manburg. They can all run around like chickens with their heads cut off for all I care.”

Phil glances over at Dream. He’s frozen, staring in Techno’s general direction with wide eyes. He’s not shaking as much and Phil takes that as a good sign.  
He lowers his wing, just enough to let them see each other. 

Dream flinches back at first, trying to duck behind Phil’s wing again, but then he glances at Techno. 

Techno locks his gaze with Dream’s, and there’s so much gentle earnestness in his expression. Techno is an honest man, but on the rare occasions that he lies, he never shows this much emotion. There’s no possible way that he’s lying this time.

Dream seems to realize this too, despite his fear. He relaxes, his shaking slowing to almost a complete stop. Techno relaxes as well.

Phil gladly lowers his wing the rest of the way. 

“S-sorry T-techn-no,” Dream rasps. 

Techno uncrosses his arms and shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Dream.” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re okay. Thought I had lost my favorite sparring partner.” 

Dream gives such a small, shy smile and Techno beams in response. Just by looking at the two of them, Phil can already tell that Techno is going to be staying for a while. 

He pats Dream on the shoulder, drawing both of the boys’ attention. “How about dinner? I think rabbit stew sounds lovely right about now.”

Dream nervously glances over at the kitchen, to the knife that was left abandoned on the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Phil assures him, rising from the couch to check on the food. “The rabbit might be a bit over cooked, but it’ll still taste fine.” 

As Phil takes the rabbit bits and drops them in the pot with everything else, he hears Dream’s limping footsteps come up behind him. He picks up the knife, washes it off, and sheepishly goes back to chopping carrots like he was doing before Techno arrived. 

His hands shake terribly, not out of fear but from just coming out of a near panic attack. It makes it difficult to handle the knife properly.

Phil is about to tell Dream to take a break before Techno walks into the kitchen, swiftly takes the knife from Dream’s hands, and starts chopping the carrots himself. Dream flinches a bit and then pouts indignantly.

Techno flashes him a cheeky smile. “You can help Phil with seasoning.” 

Dream pouts some more before relenting and goes over to Phil, who tells him which ingredients to get out and how much of each to add to the pot.

Whatever tension still remains between the three of them disappears quickly as they work to make dinner together. The delicious smell of rabbit stew permeates the house, prompting several growling stomachs. 

Dinner is divided between the three of them and they all sit at the table to enjoy it. 

Phil watches over his son and ward fondly as they attempt to flick water at each other without Phil noticing. It’s nice to see them happy and acting like children once again. 

Phil wakes in the middle of the night to screaming. 

Launching out of bed automatically, Phil grabs the sword and scabbard resting against his nightstand and rushes towards the noise. 

It takes a second for his tired mind to catch up with the rest of his body, but by then he’s already throwing open the door to Dream’s room.

In the bed, Dream writhes under the sheets, hands clawing for anything he can reach. His eyes are blown wide open, staring at nothing, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his face. Phil can hear his gasping breaths clearly.

Dropping the sword by the door, Phil crouches beside the bed and lays a hand on Dream’s shaking form. 

He flinches away violently, his head cracking against the wall behind him. Stunned by the force of it, Dream collapses to the bed, tremors and labored breathing still wracking his body. Still in the middle of a panic attack.

“Dream,” Phil calls, tentatively reaching out again. This time when he touches Dream’s shoulder he doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t react at all, to his voice or his touch. 

Brows furrowing in concern, Phil takes Dream’s hand and holds it to his chest. With Phil’s other hand not holding Dream’s, he runs his fingers through the boy’s hair. 

“I need you to breathe with me, alright?” Although he doubts Dream hears him, Phil says it anyway. He takes deep, steady breaths, gently encouraging Dream to follow his lead. 

When Dream doesn’t respond for several minutes, Phil worries that he’s going to have to use more drastic measures to calm Dream down. Then his glazed over eyes clear a little and he sucks in a particularly desperate breath. Phil squeezes Dream’s hand and continues whispering praise and encouragement. 

It takes a while, but Dream does make an effort to follow Phil’s lead, becoming more aware of his surroundings with each passing minute. 

His gasping turns into light wheezing turns into slightly fast but mostly normal breathing. Dream’s gaze falls on Phil and immediately he lets out a choked sob.

He pulls Dream closer, and suddenly the boy is clinging onto him, desperately grasping at his shirt. He sobs again, and Phil feels his tears seeping in through his shirt. He wraps his arms around Dream’s shuddering form and holds him securely, offering as much comfort as he can give. He runs a hand up and down Dream’s back and his wings curl around the both of them as well, soaking them in warmth. 

A slight movement out of the corner of his eye has Phil looking up. Standing there in the doorway is Techno. 

His usual crown, gold-chained cape, and boots are all gone, replaced instead with a simple set of pajamas, one of the many clothes he still keeps for when his sons visit. Without his usual get-up, Techno looks… small. 

Techno’s hand is gripping the doorframe so hard that Phil is worried it might splinter, and he’s staring at Dream with a stricken, far away look. 

It’s understandable, Phil thinks ruefully. After all, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.  
All three of his sons have had panic attacks of their own before. Each one of them experienced it differently and with varying frequency. 

Techno often got nightmares when Phil first adopted him, but usually not too bad, and so his panic attacks were few and far between. 

It was when Wilbur first joined the family that it became a common occurrence for Phil to be woken up in the middle of the night because of Wilbur’s frequent night terrors and panic attacks. 

It was just as common for Techno to wander over to Wilbur’s room and stay with him through the night after Phil had left to go back to sleep. Originally, Phil had sat by Wilbur’s bedside during those nights, usually passing out in his seat. Then Techno had taken it upon himself to do it until practically half the time he slept was by Wilbur’s side. 

It’s like Techno’s a kid all over again, waiting anxiously by the door as Phil calms the boy down. Only this time it’s not Wilbur in the bed but Dream. 

Phil turns his attention back to Dream. He seems to have mostly tired himself out, only the occasional sniffle here and there. His formerly thread-tearing grip on Phil’s shirt has fallen lax. If he were to relax his grip any more then his hands would fall limp to the bed. 

He feels more than hears Techno walk up behind him. He hesitates for a moment, but then he reaches out and gently untangles one of Dream’s hands from Phil’s shirt.

It takes a moment for Dream to realize it’s not Phil that’s touching him but Techno, and his first reaction is to flinch away. His hand is pulled quickly from Techno’s grasp and held closely to his chest as Dream turns his head to glance up at Techno over Phil’s shoulder.

He looks absolutely miserable. Tear tracks stain his cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed and his eyelashes sticking together unpleasantly. His hair is all messed up and his mouth has a kind of down curve like he’s about to start sobbing all over again. 

Logically, Phil knows Dream is an adult, although he may be a young adult compared to Phil. But in that moment all Phil sees is a little boy filled with more sadness than any one person should have. He looks so small.

Once Dream sees that Techno is there and not someone else, he burrows back into Phil’s chest but keeps one eye open, watching Techno warily. He sniffles and tucks his other hand to his chest as well. 

Techno sits down on the bed beside Dream, offering the boy a nervous smile, although only Phil can see the nervous part of it. 

Slowly, Phil tucks his wings back in, removing the barrier separating the two. He feels the way Dream tenses a bit, hiding more of his face in Phil’s chest but still watching Techno closely. 

Techno awkwardly scoots closer and carefully reaches his hand out to lay it on Dream’s shoulder. Dream doesn’t flinch thankfully. Instead, he relaxes, and Techno takes that as his invitation to get closer.

Slowly, making sure to watch Dream closely for any sign of discomfort, he wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulls him flush against his side. As Dream leans into Techno, now turning to hide his face against Techno’s side, Phil lowers his own arms.   
He keeps his wings wrapped around the both of them for a few moments though, taking a moment to watch the two of them, smiling fondly. 

But eventually he has to get up, his back cracking as he stretches. Techno gives him an amused look, and Phil is sure that if Dream wasn’t here he would leap at the chance to make a joke about Phil being old. Dream glances up at him with a worried expression but relaxes when Phil gives him a warm smile. 

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” he murmurs. He yawns and runs at his eyes, and he knows that as soon as his head hits the pillow he’s going to be out like a light.   
He gives them both one last look, a little bit worried. But Dream seems to have settled down and although he looks loath to see Phil leave he seems just as content with Techno in his place. 

Phil heads for the door, picking up the sword he left there as he goes. He closes the door halfway like Dream prefers it. 

“Sweet dreams,” he tells them, and delights in the way they both smile.

Satisfied, Phil heads back to his room and flops onto the bed. Just like he thought, he’s asleep as soon as he lands.


	5. New Feathers for a New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. The next one is longer and I didn’t want to add too much stuff.   
> Hope you enjoy anyway 💜

Dream is the happiest he’s been in a long time. 

Phil has been taking care of him as if Dream were his own kid, providing comfort and warmth and everything he could need. He always makes way more food than the three of them could realistically eat and Dream does his best to eat everything on his plate. Phil always looks so proud of him when he does. 

He lets Dream stay in Wilbur’s room, but he’s collected so many things that he had to move into the spare 4th room yesterday. It’s just as cozy as the rest of the house and some part of Dream is so happy to have his own space that’s his and only his. Every time he hears ‘Dream’s room’ it makes him feel warm and fuzzy and wanted. 

His ankle has healed enough that he’s able to help Phil with the farm again, and now that Techno is there to tend to the potatoes Dream throws all his focus into sweet berries. He didn’t know he had such a sweet tooth until he started munching on them not as a means of survival but just as something that tastes good. He still doesn’t go near the wheat, but Phil says it’s fine and he said it so earnestly that there’s no way he could have been lying, and Dream had relaxed and fallen into a rhythm of his own.

After only two days of Techno staying with them, he asked Dream to spar with him. They don’t do anything serious, or else Phil would probably have a heart attack. Mostly it’s just Techno showing Dream new styles of fighting and adjusting his stance as a way to build up all the muscle he lost. 

It’s only been about two weeks since Phil had stumbled upon him and taken him home, and now Dream doesn’t feel like a ghost anymore. Between Phil and Techno, he’s more or less a healthy person again, although he still has a long way to go. 

Dream still gets night terrors and panic attacks. He didn’t even know what those were until Phil had explained it all to him. He still can’t handle the dark or closed doors or even something as simple as bread, but he’s getting better. 

Even if he still sometimes flinches away from an unexpected touch or gets freaked out by too loud noises or silence, Phil and Techno are understanding. They always tell him it’s okay, that they will always protect him, that he’s doing so well.

And Dream isn’t sure he entirely believes them yet. He did a lot of bad things and even though he hates the prison, is terrified by any mention of it, he knows he probably deserved it, probably still does. But with every reassurance comes another crack in his logic. He wants them to be right, wants to feel like he deserves the kindness they give him so badly. Maybe one day he will.

And as Dream contemplates all of this, he finds that he’s happy. 

He’s gently swinging back and forth on the old swing that hangs from the tree right beside Phil’s house. The rope is worn from years of use. Phil had told him that it’s been there since he first started adopting. It’s seen all three of his boys grow into adulthood. It’s rickety enough that it could snap at any minute, but Dream finds it relaxing. 

It has a perfect view over the edge of the cliff, showing off the grassy plains and forests in the distance. But Dream is facing the other way, towards the dense oak forest where the sun sets every night. It’s just starting to set now, the sky turning a pretty orange color with a little bit of pink. 

Techno is off gathering firewood. It might be warming up as spring approaches, but snow can still fall at any time and it pays to be prepared. Phil is somewhere inside, probably reading or tending to his wings. He did mention recently that he’s ‘overdue for a good preening’. 

Dream doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until a rustling from the bushes in the forest draws his attention. He wonders if it’s a fox or rabbit. Those are always fun to watch. 

It’s not a fox or a rabbit.

Out of the bushes come George and Sapnap.

Dream’s heart skips a beat.

He freezes, eyes wide. 

This must be a dream, he thinks. This can’t be real.

But George looks up and locks eyes with him and Dream knows that it’s all too real.

He remembers the day everyone had come up to him and he had immediately tensed at their nervous shuffling. George was the one to deliver the news. Dream was to be locked up in the prison. He had thought it was a joke at first, had chuckled a bit, but then he quickly sobered when George began reading out the list of crimes and grievances against him. 

Cold water rushes through his veins. 

The three of them stare at each other, nobody daring even to breathe. 

Dream remembers Sapnap sneaking up behind him, grabbing him around his arms and waist, and while he struggled George had stepped forward and took his weapons. They had both worked together to drag him to the prison, Fundy right behind them with a potion of weakness in case he managed to break out of their hold on him. 

Sapnap takes a cautious step forward, one hand held out like he’s approaching a wild animal, the other clutching an enchanted compass. There’s a strange look in his eyes.

To Dream’s hazy mind, all he sees in their expressions is the same cold indifference they had as they tossed him into the cell and slammed the door.

He remembers being plunged into darkness, unable to see even his own hand in front of his face. He had scrambled up off the ground and in his haste to get to the door had cracked his face against it. He had banged on the door, screaming for help that would never come. He couldn’t hear anything and figured they couldn’t hear him in turn, doubts they would have cared even if they did, but he kept screaming and banging anyway.

Dream’s hands grip the front of his hoodie. He doesn’t notice the way his fingers pulse in pain, the wounds there still healing. 

All he sees is the way George is speaking to him. Dream can see his mouth moving but hears nothing. 

He remembers being angry at first, telling himself that as soon as he was let out he would slaughter everyone who was involved. He only realized later that all he was doing was trying to mask his fear. He wasn’t really going to kill anyone, he just wanted out, out, out—

Sapnap takes another step towards him, and in that moment something in Dream breaks all over again.   
He leaps off the swing and runs.

He hears someone yell, and it only pushes him to move faster. 

Dream throws the door open, too stricken with absolute terror to think to close it behind him. It cracks against the wall and he flinches at the noise, frantically reaching up a hand to cover one ear. 

“Ph-Phil!” He calls, but his voice is too hoarse to be any louder than a whisper. 

He races up the stairs, wincing as his ankle rolls and he nearly falls. George and Sapnap are at the door now, racing to catch up with him and he can’t let them catch him—

“Phil!” He yells, and this time it’s about the same as regular speaking volume. He doesn’t know where Phil is, doesn’t have enough time to go looking through all the rooms he could be in. 

He goes to the first place that he can think of, the place that makes him feel safe. 

Dream bursts into his room, slamming the door behind him. His hands shake erratically as he tries to lock the door. 

He doesn’t want to lock the door. It brings back so many memories of obsidian walls and an impenetrable door that would stay locked for so long. But George and Sapnap are right there and he can’t let them get him or—

The door bursts open and Dream falls, landing on his back. He locks eyes with George.

He desperately scrambles back until he hits the corner of his room and even then he tries to go farther, pushing himself against the wall hard enough that it’s painful. 

Sapnap comes closer, reaching out like he’s going to touch—

Dream feels the phantom pains of arms holding him in a vice-like grip, refusing to yield no matter how much he struggled. 

He chokes out a high whine of absolute fear, flinching violently despite the lack of space to do so. 

Dream feels like a wild animal caught in a trap, thrashing around despite how useless it may be. 

He turns, pressing half of his body against the corner he’s stuck in. One hand tangles in his hair and the other claws at the wall like if he tries hard enough he can scratch his way out. 

His lungs struggle to pull in air, but he takes one last deep breath and screams as loud as he can.

“PHIL!” 

He sees a hand reaching for him and all he can think is no, no, no, no, get away, get away—

And then he blinks and the hand is gone. 

Dream looks up and sees feathers, and immediately he relaxes just a fraction.

It’s just like that first day, when Phil had come out of nowhere and saved him when he was on the brink of death, like a savior angel. Now here he stands in the exact same position, wings puffed up defiantly and a sword by his side. 

Phil’s wings are different now. He must have cleaned them up because where before they had been a dark grey, now they shine a beautiful silver in the light filtering in through the window, a few feathers near the bottom a pure white like snow. 

He isn’t wearing his usual coat because he’s inside, and because of that Dream can see the tension coiled in every fiber of his being, a predator waiting to strike.

From underneath Phil’s outstretched wing, he sees a shimmering blue and grey sword held up to George’s throat, a wide-eyed Sapnap just behind him. 

“Get out.”

It takes a moment for Dream to realize it’s Phil speaking, the harsh, demanding tone so different from his usual chill and happy personality. Dream shivers, curling into himself with a tiny whimper. 

Phil twitches at the noise. George, on the other hand, glances over at Dream and he can’t see George’s expression behind his goggles but his gasping breaths speed up in fear anyway. In an instant, Phil presses the sword against George’s neck, drawing only a little bit of blood, and George is forced to look back up at Phil, who moves his wing in between Dream and the two intruders so they can’t see each other.

“Wha— we just want to talk—“ Sapnap tries, his voice just as fiery as ever. 

“Get out, now!”

Phil accentuates his point by stepping closer to George, the sword at his neck forcing him to take a step back. 

“I— we—“ 

Sapnap tries again to speak, but just then Techno steps into the room. 

Ever so silently, he looks from George and Sapnap to a furious Phil to Dream struggling to breathe on the floor and back. 

Dream watches fearfully as he squares his shoulders with a huff and flexes his hands by his sides. 

He’s never seen Techno so angry before. Dream has seen Techno annoyed or focused on a fight or grinning deviously as he exacts revenge on some poor soul, but never truly angry. It’s like he can feel the fury radiating off him in waves, and yet somehow he finds it comforting. He knows that this anger isn’t directed at him but inspired for him. 

Nobody sees the punch coming. A deafening crack echoes through the room and Sapnap falls to the floor with a cry of pain, hands flying up to clutch at his face. Blood flows down his fingers.

“What the fuck—!” 

“Get out of my house!” Phil practically screams, wings flaring out.

Techno grabs the front of Sapnap’s shirt, ignoring the blood dripping there, and bodily drags him out of the room without a word. He also ignores Sapnap’s struggling and yelling. Soon enough Dream can’t hear him at all.

George leaves mostly of his own free will, Phil’s sword pressed to his back.

The door is slammed shut and locked behind him, and then it’s just Dream and Phil.

Phil’s sword clatters to the ground and then he’s by Dream’s side in an instant. All of the previous rage and tension is gone, replaced with the worried and caring Phil that Dream knows so well.

Dream flinches when Phil reaches out at first, and he feels simultaneously grateful and guilty for the way Phil immediately draws his hand back. Instead, he brings his wings up to surround them, shielding Dream from seeing anything but Phil. He’s glad he doesn’t have to look at the closed door, doesn’t want to remember the prison more than he already has.

Dream shakes and cries and gasps for air. He doesn’t want to feel afraid anymore, but that’s all he seems to ever feel. 

After a particularly heart wrenching sob, Phil reaches out again. This time Dream leans into him willingly, desperate for some kind of comfort. 

Everything hurts, but Phil has always been good at taking away the pain. 

Dream simply holds on and doesn’t let go.


	6. Confessions

Sapnap’s entire face is on fire. 

He lies there on the grass just in front of what’s apparently Phil’s house, his nose gushing so much blood that there’s a puddle of it staining both his shirt and the plants beneath him.

He knew that Technoblade hit hard, but jeez. He didn’t know one guy could pack a punch like that. He honestly has no idea if his nose is broken or not. He would be more surprised if it wasn’t.

Sapnap glances up from the gross puddle he’s made and finds Techno in exactly the same place as before. He’s standing on the top step of the porch with his arms crossed and his shoulders squared, glaring at the both of them. Sapnap had tried to push past him at first, but quickly found out that he’s no match for Techno and promptly gave up, choosing to sit on the ground and nurse his broken face instead. He still hasn’t stopped bleeding. 

Glancing over to his left, Sapnap finds George, still pacing a hole into the ground. Every once in a while he’ll glance over at the house or mumble something under his breath. Sometimes he’ll reach up to his neck where Phil’s sword had dug in, leaving a decently sized slash. The small wound had only bled for maybe a few seconds, meanwhile Sapnap is practically swimming in blood. He could at least be a good friend and check to make sure Sapnap’s nose isn’t broken, he thinks ruefully.

But then again, if Sapnap wasn’t distracted by trying to stop himself from bleeding out, he would probably be pacing right alongside George. 

He glances up at the upstairs window, the farthest one to the left. He knows that’s where Dream is right now, and his heart twists at the thought.

They finally find him and of course his first reaction to seeing them is to run and proceed to have a mental breakdown. Sapnap shouldn’t have expected any different. He always thought optimistically, but when he really thought about it there were only two ways this could go. Either Dream would have freaked out, which is what actually happened, or he would have chopped both of their heads off. Sapnap isn’t sure which one he would prefer to be honest, maybe the second one just so he wouldn’t have to feel so fucking guilty anymore. 

He can’t stop thinking about how terrified Dream had looked, how he had huddled in a corner and tried desperately to claw his way out, the mere sight of them throwing him into a frenzy. The memory plays on loop in his head. 

There’s no way they can fix this. Sapnap’s worst fears have been realized and all he can do is pathetically clutch at his nose and hope for it to stop bleeding. 

It seems like an eternity before a voice can be heard from inside the house, and for a moment all Sapnap can hear is the terrified scream Dream had let out before ringing in his head. 

Then Techno’s ear twitches and he shuffles into the house. Before Sapnap can even think about following him inside, Phil is right there, blocking his entry again. 

Just like Techno, his arms are crossed and he’s glaring, but something about the way Phil does it makes Sapnap want to look away, in intimidation or shame he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s the way he spreads his wings, making him seem so much bigger. Maybe it’s his fatherly aura leaking pure disappointment into the air. 

Techno closes the door behind him and Sapnap loses the battle to keep eye contact, staring down at the bloodied lawn instead. George stops his pacing, at first looking at Phil but then looking everywhere else. 

“I want an explanation,” Phil says, and George opens his mouth to hastily respond but Phil shoots him a glare that has him snapping his mouth shut in an instant.

“I want an explanation from the beginning,” he explains further, rolling his shoulders. “Tell me everything. And I mean everything. If you lie, I can always get Techno to make you tell the truth.” He pointedly looks at the pool of blood on the ground in front of Sapnap, who huffs and spits a glob of blood off to the side. 

Sapnap glances over at George and they share a look. Then George sighs deeply and begins his explanation.

“Dream was going crazy, starting wars at every opportunity, causing chaos in every possible way.”  
George winces at the look Phil gives him but continues.

“The Greater SMP and L’Manburg were getting tired of constantly fighting each other, and both sides were looking for a way to end it. We tried to bring up the idea of peace with Dream several times but he always brushed it off, always came up with excuses for why it wouldn’t work. He was becoming distant and cold. We thought…”

George swallows and looks away. 

“We thought he didn’t love us anymore,” Sapnap finishes. Both Phil and George’s gazes snap over to him. His anger at the broken nose fades, replaced by a lingering sense of loss he hasn’t been able to shake. 

“He said all he cared about was winning, and we believed him.” 

“So we held a meeting. Everyone from both sides were there, and we discussed how to bring about peace so that it benefits everyone,” George continues solemnly. “We were hurt and angry at the time, and when Quackity mentioned the prison…” 

A heavy silence sits between the three of them, and thankfully Phil doesn’t push for them to continue. He knows the meaning of their words without them having to say it. He still looks pissed as hell, but at least he’s not glaring anymore. Sapnap internally sighs in relief.

“The idea only snowballed from there. It turned from a meeting about peace to a meeting about… throwing Dream in prison. We even made a list of grievances.”

Sapnap snorts humorlessly. “Like we were trying to prove to ourselves that we were doing the right thing. If we had just taken a second to really think about it…”

“We set a date and we went through with it. We— Sapnap and me were— We dragged him in there ourselves. We were the ones to close the door and leave him there.”

George grips his arms, fingernails digging in until he bleeds. He doesn’t seem to notice it.

When George doesn’t continue, Sapnap forces himself to speak up. “He ended up staying there for three months.”

Phil’s eyes widen, his wings flaring out. An expression of horror washes over him, and both Sapnap and George look away, a horrible feeling stirring in their guts that’s been there since the first month. 

Sapnap had tried to ignore the feeling, refusing to admit to himself that he might be wrong. But then as time went on it only got worse. 

He saw Dream in everything he did. Every distraction he could think of only served as a reminder of the person who was no longer by his side. Until eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Sapnap came to me and we had a long talk,” George continues after a brief but weighted silence. “We agreed that what we did was wrong and we went to get him out of there.”

He thankfully leaves out the part where Sapnap had burst into George’s house in anger, only to have a breakdown minutes later, going on and on about how shitty they were as friends. He leaves out the part where George had finally realized what he was going on about and also burst into tears even as he tried to comfort Sapnap. He leaves out the part where they hadn’t talked to each other as friends for the entire three months Dream was in prison, some part of them feeling so wrong without the third member of their party. 

It had taken a long time for them both to calm down enough to have a real discussion. 

“On the way we met up with Fundy and Sam—“ Sapnap’s voice cracks and he has to forcefully clear his throat of the blood that’s pooled there. “Sam— He didn’t know that Dream was in the prison until then and— He was the one that built it in the first place, but he said the prison wasn’t finished. We—“

Sapnap can’t finish his sentence, his throat gone dry despite the blood. Luckily George is there to pick it up for him.

“Fundy grabbed his potions and we ran for the prison. We didn’t know what kind of state Dream would be in, but by the way Sam was acting we knew it couldn’t be good.” 

George twitches like he’s about to start pacing again but stops himself.

“The room was dark, no light at all until we opened the door,” Sapnap explains, and he can’t tell if his vision is hazy because of blood loss or the chaotic mixture of emotions flowing through him as he remembers. 

“The walls were covered in blood and there was a pile of moldy bread by the door.”

He remembers the smell hitting him first, how he had gagged at how unexpectedly disgusting it was. And then…

“Dream was in the far corner and… he looked so small. His mask was shattered on the floor and his face was—“ 

He chokes on the last word, unsure of what he was going to say. Haunted? Skeletal? Like he was already dead? 

“He freaked out when he realized we were there,” George says, and Sapnap admires how his voice barely shakes. George seems to be doing a much better job of detaching himself from the situation, although Sapnap can still see the force that he’s holding himself with. He’s just as affected by the memories as Sapnap is, he’s just refusing to show it. 

“Fundy used a potion to get him to sleep and we got him out of there as fast as we could. We took him to the community house and patched him up. I sat by his bed while Sapnap went to get Bad, and I must have fallen asleep because when they got back Dream was gone.” 

“We’ve been trying to find him since,” Sapnap finishes, barely a whisper. 

George’s shoulders drop. “We just wanted to know that he was okay.”

Sapnap scoffs lightly and Phil raises an eyebrow at him. “We wanted— We want our friend back, but we all know that’s never going to happen. Not after what we did.” 

The hand not holding his nose goes up to his hair, gripping it just as tightly as George is gripping his arms. More blood gushes from his nose and he lets it. Watching the blood flow is almost therapeutic now. He’s accepted it, knows this is only a fraction of what he deserves. He wonders idly if he can get Techno to hit harder next time, until Sapnap is a barely recognizable bloody lump on the ground. And yet he still doesn’t think that would be enough. 

Maybe he should throw himself in the prison for three months. He wonders what he would be like, after. Maybe he’d end up like Dream, maybe he’d just waste away and end up like Ghostbur. Even so, he knows it wouldn’t do anything. There’s no way he can take back what he did to Dream. There’s nothing he can do to atone for this, no matter how much he wants to. 

He just wants Dream to be happy again. 

He jolts as something brushes along his back, jolting again when he realizes it’s Phil’s wing wrapped around him. Phil is crouched in front of him and he still looks pissed but also almost worried. 

Sapnap doesn’t realize he’s not holding onto his face anymore until Phil reaches for his chin and turns his head back and forth. 

Before Sapnap can think to brace himself, Phil is already reaching up and cracking his broken nose back into place. 

He yelps and throws himself back, both hands gripping his face with his eyes squeezed shut. It takes a minute for him to figure out how to breathe again, but when he does he takes the opportunity to glare up at Phil, who only smirks back at him. 

Sapnap probably looks pathetic, covered in blood and shaking lightly in the cold. 

Phil holds out a hand, and for a moment Sapnap just stares at it, not understanding what Phil wants from him. He gestures to Sapnap’s own hands and suddenly he feels very stupid. 

Hastily wiping the blood off on his already ruined shirt, Sapnap grabs Phil’s hand and lets himself get hauled up from the ground. He sways a bit, the change in balance screwing him up, but luckily he doesn’t fall. That would be embarrassing. Not that he hasn’t already embarrassed himself enough, but still. 

Phil gives him a long, searching look, making Sapnap shuffle awkwardly. Then Phil takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. 

He turns and heads for the door, tucking his wings back in. Sapnap can’t help but stare for a moment, almost mesmerized by the way the silver feathers shimmer with every tiny movement. 

“It’s getting dark, so I’ll let you both stay for the night.” 

Before either of them can say anything, he casts a vicious glare over his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret it.” 

Sapnap shivers. George hesitantly follows Phil into the house with Sapnap not far behind. 

Phil takes Sapnap by the shoulders and sits him down on the couch. Sapnap himself is too tired to resist, sinking into the cushions. He’s been walking nonstop for two weeks and the confrontation with Dream, Techno, and Phil plus some minor blood loss isn’t helping. 

A second later and Phil sits on the table in front of him, a bunch of medical supplies in his arms that he sets down beside him. Sapnap grunts and winces as Phil moves his hand away from his face and prods at his nose. 

While Phil is taping up the bridge of his nose to keep it in place, he feels a dip in the couch as George sits next to him. Then Phil is stuffing his nose with cotton and Sapnap has to grit his teeth and grip his pants tightly to keep from yelling. 

Phil sits back and Sapnap has a chance to breathe. Phil nods like he’s satisfied and Sapnap lets himself sink into the cushions again. He closes his eyes and tries to get some rest. There’s no way he’s going to fall asleep anytime soon, has barely slept at all in months anyway, but he can give his body a break for a moment or two.

“Alright, your turn.” 

“What? I’m not injured.”

Sapnap peeks an eye open to see Phil pointedly gesturing to the scratches on George’s arms and the slash on his throat. George looks away with a pout but lets Phil take his arm to examine the small wounds there. 

Sapnap’s lips twitch up into a smirk. George was never a very good patient, always stubbornly saying he wasn’t hurt that badly or that there were others who needed to be cared for more than him. It’s a bad habit that all three of them have, or had. But something about the way Phil acts with people…

George doesn’t protest at all like he normally would as Phil cleans the wounds and puts small bandages over them. The one on his neck looks kind of ridiculous, but he doesn’t pick at it like Sapnap would’ve expected. Maybe it’s the way Phil gives him a look when George reaches up to touch it, prompting him to drop his arm immediately. 

Phil is just such a dad. He even acts like a dad to people he barely knows, people who have done terrible things. He’s so overwhelmingly kind and caring and protective of the people he considers family. 

Sapnap sluggishly comes to the realization that Dream must be part of that group now, part of Phil’s family. There’s no way Phil would’ve acted like he did earlier if that wasn’t the case. 

But even though Phil clearly hates them, and rightfully so, he still takes the time and energy to tend to their wounds and give them a place to stay for the night. 

Sapnap feels his eyes slipping closed again. He must be a lot more tired than he thought he was, because he can almost feel himself slowly slipping into unconsciousness. 

Or at least he was, until blood starts trickling down his throat towards his lungs and he starts hacking up a storm, doubling over with a hand to his mouth to keep it from getting everywhere. Someone pats his back comfortingly and he figures it has to be George.

When he finally manages to clear his throat and catch his breath, he looks up to see not George but Phil.   
He holds out a golden apple for Sapnap to take, and he stares at it with wide eyes before hesitantly plucking it from Phil’s hand. He leans back and holds it for a second in blood-stained hands.

No wonder Dream is living here, he thinks. If this is how Phil treats his enemies then he can’t imagine how he treats his family. It must be nice to have someone that actually cares for him, because clearly Sapnap and George failed in that department. 

“How did he find you anyway?”

The question slips out of him accidentally. His eyes widen as he looks up at a surprised Phil. He makes himself small, looking away to nibble on the apple. He fully expects Phil not to answer him.

“I found him out in the woods by the nether portal.”

Sapnap’s head snaps up to look at Phil. He sees George look up out of the corner of his eye as well, both of them interested in the story, searching for any scrap of information on what happened to Dream in the two weeks he was missing.

Phil sighs and sits in an armchair. It looks like it was made for him, and with the strange way it’s designed it probably was. There’s a space between the arms of the chair and the back, allowing his wings to drape down comfortably instead of being squashed between him and the chair. 

He folds his hands in his lap and relaxes. With his wings melting into the floor and without the tension lining his form, he suddenly looks very tired. He has to be exhausted after all of this. He wonders how well Dream is fairing, if Phil and Techno managed to calm him down.

“I was tending to the farm when I heard a creeper explosion down the mountain. I found Dream there, collapsed in the snow about to be eaten by zombies. I took him home and patched him up, and he’s been living here since.”

It’s been two weeks since Dream left the nether and Phil found him. He’s been living with Phil for two weeks. Sapnap wonders how different Dream is now, what kinds of things he’s been doing lately. He was on a swing when they stumbled out of the forest trying to find him, so maybe he’s just been reliving childhood. 

Sapnap wishes he could do that. At this point he’d give anything to go back in time and start over. He’d take George and Dream and head off into the forest, far, far away from civilization. They would build a house in the middle of nowhere, start a farm, mess around in the trees. They would be on their own but they would be happy.

No wars, no prison, just the three of them against the world, like it used to be. 

He would give anything…

Sapnap takes a bite of his apple, trying to shove the thoughts away. It’s pointless to think about anyway. He needs to accept that this is his reality and there’s nothing he can do to change that. 

Dream has a new family now, one that doesn’t leave him to rot in a prison. Sapnap is happy for his friend (or former friend more like, because there’s no way Dream considers him a friend anymore). 

So why does he feel so empty?

Phil and George talk some more after that, but it’s not about Dream so Sapnap tunes it out. Since he can’t sleep upright without choking on his own blood, he lies on his side and uses George’s legs like a pillow. He finishes the golden apple and sets the core down on the table before turning so he’s facing the back of the couch, closing his eyes again.

He falls asleep to George’s hands combing through his hair. 

After George and Sapnap both drift off, Phil ends up sitting there for a bit longer, just watching the gentle rise and fall of their chests. 

They’re all so young.

Sapnap, George, and Dream have all been through so much. They’ve waged wars, killed dozens of people, ruled armies and nations, and yet when Phil looks at them, really looks at them, they’re so small.

Sapnap and George obviously regret their actions. There’s no doubt in Phil’s mind that they were telling the truth. Even so, they hurt Dream perhaps beyond repair, and that’s not something that can just be forgiven. 

No matter how much Phil wants to bundle them all into his arms and fly them away from all their troubles, he can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Dream if his two former friends stayed. Dream is where he should focus his attention as the one who needs comfort the most. 

Sapnap and George, even if they don’t have anyone else to turn to for comfort, at least have each other. For the sake of Dream’s mental health, Phil will have to accept that. 

Besides, if he took in every sad boy he came across Phil would end up adopting half of the Greater SMP, and he can’t imagine how much chaos that would cause. 

Sighing, Phil forces himself to stand, his joints aching in protest. He really is getting old. 

He trudges up the stairs and walks not to his own room but to Dream’s. The door is half open and he can see light spilling into the hallway. 

He keeps his footsteps loud and knocks on the doorframe as he enters, making sure not to startle anyone. 

Dream and Techno are on the bed instead of the floor thankfully. Dream is hugging his knees to his chest with tear tracks clearly visible on his face. Techno sits beside him, one arm thrown around Dream’s shoulders, holding him close. They both look up when Phil enters and he smiles back at them.

“George and Sapnap are downstairs,” he starts, and winces when Dream immediately begins to panic all over again, curling further into himself. He rushes over to Dream’s other side, curling his wing over both of his wards. “No, don’t worry. They’re both asleep. They’re going to leave first thing tomorrow morning. I’m not going to let them anywhere near you. They’re not going to set a foot outside the living room, I promise.”

Dream turns his head so he’s looking at Phil with one eye and he looks absolutely miserable but so hopeful. Phil’s heart melts at the sight. He would do anything for this kid.

“You’re safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

He puts as much honesty in his expression as he can, hoping against hope that Dream will believe him.   
The kid sniffles lightly and then gives a tiny nod, leaning more into Techno’s side. 

Phil sighs internally, relieved. 

“It’s getting late. We should all get to sleep.”

Dream tenses again, shooting out a hand to grasp Phil’s sleeve. He tugs on it and gives Phil a look.

Phil chuckles. “I was already planning on sleeping in here, but I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Dream lets go and looks away sheepishly. Phil gives him a reassuring smile and tucks his wing in to stand up. 

It only takes a minute or two for Phil to grab a bunch of blankets and pillows from his room and lie them out on the floor of Dream’s room. He arranges them in a nest pattern, with plenty of space for him to stretch his wings out and still have more room to spare. 

Phil settles down in the center on his stomach with his arms wrapped around the pillow under his chin and his wings comfortably resting by his sides. He looks up and finds Dream watching him with a little crinkle on his forehead that Phil finds adorable. 

He smiles and lifts one of his wings invitingly.

Dream hesitates, glancing up at Techno almost nervously. Techno sighs not in exasperation but in fondness and promptly lifts Dream into his arms like he weighs nothing at all.

Dream makes a startled noise and clings to Techno as he’s carried over to Phil. He only lets go when Techno gently sets him down in the little space under Phil’s wing, instead choosing to shuffle closer to Phil and cling to him next. 

Phil lifts his other wing and Techno rolls his eyes as he settles down on Phil’s other side. There’s the sound of shuffling, fabric rustling, and then both of his boys settle down and there is only comfortable silence.

Phil smiles to himself. His boys.

With Dream snuggled into his left side and Techno resting his back against Phil’s right, he lets his wings drape over them like a warm blanket. They fit together so well that Phil almost can’t imagine it ever being any different. 

He found Dream only two weeks ago and he’s already snapped into place in his odd little family like a missing puzzle piece. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

His boys. 

Phil lets all the tension from tonight fade away and he’s the first to drift off into sleep.


	7. Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜💜💜  
> So I saw a bit of Tommy’s stream last night. I have no idea what to feel about it but it does present some interesting implications for this fic. I heard that the next season or arc or whatever is going to take place in the future. Idk how true that is but Dream might end up staying in the prison for months or years at a time, who knows.   
> 💜💜💜  
> Also, this is the last of the stuff I have pre-written so after this chapter updates are going to take significantly longer. 
> 
> It would really help if you guys gave me some suggestions in the comments for some scenes I could do, or just tell me your predictions for what’s going to happen in Dream SMP and I can get some inspiration from that. 
> 
> The comments you guys leave always make my day and I probably would have discontinued this story a while ago if you guys didn’t seem to like it so much. I’ll try my best to keep writing this story to completion.   
> 💜💜💜

Dream wakes up feeling warm and safe.

He would say that he never gets used to it, but that would be a lie. The cold and lonely memories of the prison still linger in the back of his mind, but they’re slowly being written over with newer, happier memories. 

The safe part is pretty new though. While he’s come to expect to wake up warm, there’s something about this new position, tucked under Phil’s wing with Techno not far away, that makes him feel so amazingly safe that it’s hard to think of much else. 

Since he came to Phil’s little corner of the world, there’s always been a lingering kind of uncertainty and dread. The thought that maybe Phil isn’t as genuine as he seems or that Sapnap and George could show up at any time plagued him every day. 

But Phil is exactly the kind soul he makes himself out to be and Techno’s intimidating presence has become a huge comfort. And he might still be scared of Sapnap and George, but now he’s certain that Phil and Techno will protect him from anything, no matter how scary their foe might be. 

For the first time in a long time, he feels truly safe. 

Dream snuggles farther into Phil’s side and relaxes into the feeling, letting himself drift in the space between sleep and consciousness. 

He’s not sure how long he stays like that. Maybe it’s a few minutes or maybe it’s hours. Time doesn’t have much meaning in that moment. 

But while Dream might want to stay like that forever, his body has other plans. His stomach growls very loudly to make that point clear. 

Groaning lightly in annoyance, Dream presses himself farther into Phil’s side, trying to ignore the hunger that’s made itself known. 

Only a few minutes later, his stomach growls again.

With a huff, Dream finally opens his eyes. 

It’s dim but not so dark that it reminds him of the prison. This darkness isn’t from unyielding obsidian walls but from the slightly darker grey undersides of Phil’s feathers draped over him. Sunlight streams in from the windows of his room, but Phil’s wing blocks most of the direct light, creating a comfortable little nook. 

It’s so comfortable Dream could stay there forever if only his stomach wasn’t so annoying. 

With a sigh, Dream carefully scoots out from underneath Phil’s wing without jostling him too much. He sits up and stretches his arms over his head. His joints still ache when he stretches them too far, his body still regaining strength over time, but he’s pleased to find that nothing hurts anymore. Besides his ankle at least, which is still tightly wrapped and gives him a slight limp. 

Dream gazes around his room lazily. Phil is still sprawled out on the blanket nest in the same position as the night before, and Dream delights in the way his feathers move slightly with every breath he takes. There’s a Techno-sized lump under Phil’s other wing, and Dream can barely make out a few strands of pink hair poking out. 

The light from the window casts everything in a golden glow, making Phil’s wings shimmer twice as bright. Dream is mesmerized by it for a moment or two. 

Then his stomach growls a third time and he’s rudely reminded of why he’s awake in the first place. The sigh he lets out tickles his dry throat. 

It’s as he’s about to stand up and go to the kitchen that he’s reminded of something else as well. 

George and Sapnap.

A jolt of panic shoots through him as he remembers his two former friends are still in the house, probably in the living room that separates the stairs from the kitchen on the other side. If Dream wants to get food, he has to get past them. 

Suddenly much less comfortable, Dream grips the front of his hoodie and stares at the half-opened door leading into the hallway nervously. 

What if they see him and he freaks out again?

The house is quiet, so George and Sapnap are probably still asleep. 

Dream used to be fast and stealthy, but with his limp and a long time without practice…

What if he tries to sneak by and they wake up?  
What if Phil isn’t fast enough to save him a second time? 

He can’t go back to the prison. He’s already been broken once, he wouldn’t survive it a second time. 

He imagines George and Sapnap grabbing him by the arms, dragging him out of the house back to L’Manburg with a sleeping Phil and Techno none the wiser. 

As unrealistic as the image is, it still makes his lungs seize in fear. 

With wide eyes and shaking hands, Dream reaches out for Phil, intent on shaking him awake. But Phil remains in his deep sleep, barely even twitching as Dream tries his best to wake him. 

It’s after a few minutes that he realizes it’s useless. Phil must have been exhausted from the events of last night. He’s usually a light sleeper.

Dream frantically turns to Techno next, but before he can lay a hand on Techno, Dream realizes immediately that that won’t work either. Techno is a heavy sleeper. The only thing that could possibly wake him is if someone was actually in danger or being very loud. 

Dream realizes he’s going to have to face George and Sapnap alone. 

He turns to look at the door again. 

The empty, silent hallway looms ominously before him, and he knows he’s being ridiculous but the idea that George and Sapnap could be anywhere in the house, ready to jump out at any moment, terrifies him.

He could just stay in his room with Phil and Techno until they wake up. He doesn’t need to eat that badly. He can just wait. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself. Doing it is another matter entirely, and after only a minute or two he already can’t handle his swirling thoughts any longer. 

Before he can talk himself out of it, Dream pushes himself up and walks out into the hallway.

It’s empty, nobody in sight. The other bedroom doors are closed and everything is exactly where it’s always been. 

His gaze falls on the stairs leading down. 

He shakes like a leaf as he limps over to the stairs and carefully bends down so he can see downstairs into the living room.

His heart skips a beat as he sees George’s face and immediately he throws himself back, pressing his back tightly to one of the walls in the hallway. He takes several gasping breaths, staring fearfully at the stairs like George will appear there any second as he tries to calm down enough to breathe normally. 

He yearns for Phil’s comforting presence and almost considers retreating to his room. He decides against it, if only because he knows he’d end up right back at the stairs eventually anyway. Better to get it over with now. 

Very, very slowly, Dream peeks below once again, forcing himself to actually look at the scene before him.

On the couch in the living room sits George, his head leaned back so it rests on the back of the couch. His goggles have been taken off and left on the table so Dream can see that his eyes are closed.

One of George’s hands tangles in Sapnap’s hair while the other rests on his shoulder. Sapnap himself has his head pillowed on George’s thighs, his body facing the back of the couch while his shoulders and head have shifted so he’s awkwardly facing the ceiling. His nose is taped up and he’s snoring lightly. 

They look so relaxed and peaceful. Dream has to forcefully remind himself that they aren’t his friends anymore. No matter how much he wants to join them on the couch in one big puppy pile like they used to do so often, it’s never going to happen. They hate him now. They want to throw him back in the prison. He needs to stay far, far away. 

Gathering up his courage with a deep breath, Dream takes the first step down the stairs. 

He freezes up as the wood creaks loudly, whipping his head in the direction of the living room. He almost expects both George and Sapnap to wake up immediately. But they remain motionless on the couch, not even a twitch. 

Some of the tension falls from his shoulders and he dares to take another step. And then another. 

No matter how loudly the floor creaks beneath him, neither of them stir. He makes sure to watch them carefully the entire way anyway, scared that he’ll look away for a second and suddenly they’ll pounce on him. 

He makes it to the bottom of the stairs and he’s shaking all over. It feels like he’s run for miles, unable to get a decent breath. 

George’s eyes remain closed, and so do Sapnap’s. 

He’s made it down the stairs. Now he just has to make it around the couch to the kitchen. No problem…

With a gulp, Dream forces himself to shuffle into the living room. He puts as much space between himself and the couch in the center of the room as he can, still watching George and Sapnap for any sign of movement. 

It seems like it takes an eternity for him to finally reach the kitchen and something coiled tight in his chest loosens just a fraction. George and Sapnap are still right there, and they could wake up at any second, but just the fact that he made it past them gives him a sense of relief. 

He tears his gaze away from the couch so he can riffle through the pantry for something to eat. It’s a slower process than he’d like it to be, hindered by his shaking hands and eagerness to get back upstairs quickly. 

He realizes he’s making a lot of noise, but what he doesn’t realize is the way George’s eyes flutter open, or the way he catches sight of Dream and, without taking his eyes off the other boy, nudges Sapnap awake as well. 

It’s only when Dream finally grabs some strips of dried meat and sweet berries and puts them both in a bowl that he takes a moment to glance up. 

His eyes lock with George’s and all the air in his lungs leaves him. 

The bowl falls from his shaking hands and hits the floor with a loud clatter that never reaches his ears. 

Sapnap sits up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes tiredly. He looks at George and then follows George’s gaze to Dream. 

All three of them freeze in place. 

George isn’t sure exactly what he’s feeling.

He sees Dream in front of him, his entire body shaking and his eyes blown wide in pure terror. He’s terrified of them, of George. 

The bowl clatters to the floor and George barely notices. All he can think of is Dream.

He remembers finding Dream only yesterday, guided by the enchanted compass that he had kept all these years just in case. He figured he would use it if Dream was ever hurt and needed George to come find him, or if they ever started doing manhunts again like they used to. He never thought he would be using it because his friend had run away from him, from them. Even as they travelled for days on end he never stopped to think that Dream might not want them to find him. 

He naively assumed Dream had simply wandered off and gotten lost or that after so long in a dark cell he was overwhelmed by everything around him and freaked out. 

It was only when Phil’s sword was at his throat, Dream cowering behind his flared out wings, that he truly realized what he had done. 

Sapnap must have known. He hasn’t been able to sleep without nightmares for weeks, and even when he’s awake he’s consumed by guilt. Sapnap hasn’t talked to him about it since he first came to George months ago saying that they never should have put Dream in the prison. 

Deep down, George had always known. He just refused to accept it. Even when Phil demanded an explanation from them, he had pushed it to the back of his mind. The need to keep himself composed always outweighed his own feelings. 

Now Dream stands right in front of him, staring at him with so much fear in his unmasked eyes that George can’t deny it any longer.

Dream is terrified of them. 

Sapnap was right. They’re never going to get their friend back, not after what they did. 

“Dream…” 

Sapnap is the first to break the silence, his voice barely above a whisper and yet it echoes like a scream.

Dream flinches, backing up against the counter with his arms held protectively in front of him. He flicks his gaze unsteadily between Sapnap and George like he’s waiting for one of them to attack him.

George’s gut twists unpleasantly. It was never supposed to be like this. 

What was he really expecting to happen though? Did he think that once Dream was out of prison he would apologize for everything he’s done and they would all go back to being friends again? 

No, George only wanted the satisfaction of seeing Dream hurt after he hurt them. He figured that if Dream didn’t love them then there was no point in showing him any kindness either. 

A wave of pure disgust washes over him, all of it towards himself. It fills his lungs and makes it hard to breathe.

This must be what Sapnap feels like. 

“I’m so sorry,” George breathes out before he can really process what he’s saying.

Dream stares at him with nothing but fear and George desperately wants to leap over the couch and hug him, but the hard lesson from the night before keeps him firmly planted on the couch. He doesn’t want to see Dream like that ever again.

“Dream, I’m so sorry. What we did to you was wrong and—and disgusting and I—I was angry and so stupid—“

It all rushes out of him too quickly and George slaps a hand over his mouth. He looks away only because if he looks at Dream any longer he’s going to start crying and that’s not going to help anyone. 

There’s so much more he wants to say. He wants to tell Dream why they did what they did, but he knows it would only come out as an excuse. He wants to say that he’s glad Dream found Phil and Techno, two people who would never do the things Sapnap and George did. 

He needs to tell Dream that they both still love him so much. 

But he can’t. It wouldn’t be right. 

“I’m sorry too, Dream. You deserve so much better than what we did.”

When George glances over, Sapnap is slumped against the arm of the couch, staring at his hands in his lap like he’s looking right through them. His tone is soft and so full of guilt. It’s the same tone he has whenever he’s thinking about Dream since a few days after they put him in the prison. George just never noticed that it was guilt until recently. 

“Y-y… You’re n-not…”

They both snap their heads up to face Dream, who’s terrified expression is beginning to morph into confusion. When he meets their eyes his tenses shoulders rise higher and he tangles a hand in his hair, yanking on the strands. 

“Y-you’re not… going to ta-ake me back-k?”

Dream stumbles over the words, rasping them out like he hasn’t spoken in months. 

George almost doesn’t understand what he’s saying. And then a sickening realization washes over him. 

Horror paints both his and Sapnap’s expressions as they begin to understand. 

Dream thinks that they came all this way just to drag him back to the prison. He ran away not just because Sapnap and George burned away every ounce of trust he might have had for them but because staying in the prison was so bad he had travelled through the nether with no gear or food, already injured and starving, to get as far away from it and the people who put him there as possible. 

That’s why he had reacted the way he did yesterday, why he had clawed at the wall like a wild animal seeking any way out. 

For two weeks Dream thought that they took him out of the prison only to throw him right back in.

And why wouldn’t he? They were the ones who put him there. While Sapnap and George were feeling bad about themselves, he was trapped in a pitch black room, too weak to even stand. He wasn’t awake when Sapnap carried him out of the cell with far too much ease, or when George wrapped him up in so many bandages and yelled at Sapnap to get Bad. 

He woke up to George sleeping by his bedside and came to the conclusion that George was there not out of worry for his health but out of worry that he would escape. 

How could they have been so stupid?

“No!” George shouts before he can stop himself.

Dream flinches, taking a few shaking steps farther away from them towards the corner of the kitchen. The way his other hand grabs his hair and he curls into himself makes George’s stomach turn. 

“I-I’m sorry Dream, I didn’t mean to yell. I just— We’re not going to take you back. Never again. You’re never going back to that place.” 

He’s about to add an “I promise” to the end of that statement, but the words die on his tongue. 

He’s promised things to Dream before. He promised Dream once that George would never abandon him, and look how that turned out. His promises don’t mean anything.

Still holding himself protectively, Dream gives them an uncertain look almost like hope and George desperately wishes Dream would believe him, even if he knows he doesn’t deserve it. All he wants is for Dream to know that they’re never going to hurt him again. 

They’ll stay far, far away just like Phil told them to and Dream won’t have to be afraid. Hell, they would leave the Greater SMP entirely in a heartbeat if Dream asked them to, if Phil told them that’s what was best. 

And if he never gets to see Dream again? Well that’s just a small price to pay after everything. 

The stairs creak behind him and both George and Sapnap turn to see Phil. 

The winged man pauses in the middle of the stairs, taking in the scene before him, and then his eyes land on Dream and suddenly he’s rushing past the living room to get to him. 

Phil opens his arms and Dream easily falls into him, a pair of silver wings closing around them. Dream lets out a whine that rips George’s heart right out of his chest. 

Phil turns his head to give them both a look over Dream’s head. It’s not a glare like the night before, but his gaze is just as piercing.

George shrinks into himself, averting his eyes. Sapnap holds Phil’s gaze for a little bit longer but eventually scrubs a hand down the side of his face and looks away as well. 

It takes a few minutes for Dream to calm down enough to let Phil carefully guide him past the living room and up the stairs to his room again. 

George and Sapnap are left in their wake feeling nothing but shame and regret.


	8. Family

Techno is not happy.

First, Phil woke up before him and, in the process of getting up to go do things, removed his wing which was the only thing keeping Techno warm and comfortable as he slept. Despite the fact that his own house is in an area that’s constantly snowing, Techno does not enjoy the cold. 

Then, after being woken up in perhaps the most uncomfortable way possible, he had sat up and immediately noticed that Dream was not in the room. Normally this wouldn’t be concerning, but with George and Sapnap just downstairs, Techno is very concerned.

And then, his concerns seem to be justified when Phil shuffles back into the room with Dream tucked protectively under one wing. He’s shaking and breathing too fast and the grip he has on his hair looks painful. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.   
Why Dream decided to go downstairs on his own, he has no idea. What he does know is that right after Dream has calmed down he’s going to break George’s face next. 

Phil guides Dream over to Techno, who’s still in the blanket nest on the floor. As soon as Dream is close, he collapses to the ground and curls up so his legs are pulled up to his chest and his face is hidden behind his knees. 

Dream whimpers and Techno can’t watch this a second longer. Before Phil can even attempt to calm him down himself, Techno is already pulling Dream into his arms.   
He holds Dream securely even as he trembles and lets out little noises that Techno hates to hear but have become so familiar. Ever since Wilbur’s nightmares made an appearance, and now with Dream’s breakdowns, this scene has become more than familiar. 

Wilbur is technically the oldest, but Techno had always felt like the big brother of the family. Dream is the same age as him, but he seems so young in these moments, too young to have gone through so much. 

Techno is the protector, the warrior. Where Phil defends, he attacks. Where Phil is forgiving and kind, Techno is ruthless, a razor-sharp sword pointed at anyone who would dare hurt him or his family. 

At one time Dream used to be on the other side of that sword. Not anymore. 

Now his sights are set on George and Sapnap. They hurt his family, and if Techno gets the chance he’s not going to show them any mercy. 

Dream whines, breath stuttering like he’s about to cry, and Techno feels that brotherly instinct well up inside him like a tidal wave. 

He reaches a hand up and, with far more gentleness than he’s ever shown someone outside the family, rubs his fingers along Dream’s hands until they relax their death grip on his hair. Dream shakily grabs onto the front of Techno’s shirt instead and turns so he’s hiding his face in Techno’s chest. 

Phil curls his wings around them and reaches for Dream’s messy hair, combing his fingers through the blond strands. Dream whines, in fear or in contentment he can’t tell. 

“I-I miss them,” Dream admits softly.

Techno glances down at Dream dubiously and then shares a concerned glance with Phil. 

Phil opens his mouth to respond, but before any words come out Dream continues. 

“We used t-to be f-friends—“ He makes a choked noise and grips Techno’s shirt tighter, tense and shaking.

“I m-miss playing manhunt a-and building t-things and making s-stupid j-jokes.” 

He gasps and a sob rips its way out of his throat. The front of Techno’s shirt is becoming damp. Phil’s hands fall from his hair to hover uncertainly near his shoulder. 

This is the most Dream has spoken in the few days Techno has been here, and from the look on Phil’s face probably longer. Dream is only riling himself up, and Techno has half a mind to stop him. He doesn’t want Dream to work himself into a full panic attack. But when he moves to say something, Phil lays a hand on his arm and shakes his head. 

Techno doesn’t like it, but he trusts Phil’s judgement. Dream continues to shake in his hold and Techno forces himself not to interrupt what he says next. 

“I d-did some bad t-things, b-but I-I thought they w-would u-understan-nd I only want-ted t-to keep them-m s-safe!” 

Dream’s voice breaks with every word, barely suppressed sobs wracking his too-small form.

Techno isn’t sure how true that statement is, but he does know that the Dream he knew before L’Manburg was selfless to a fault. Sure he was always seeking some kind of fun, the same rush of adrenaline that Techno sought in the arena and now in the battlefield, but at his core he would do anything for the people he cared for. 

He handed out his hard-earned tournament money like candy, he trained with George and Sapnap constantly even though they were often put on different teams, he threw himself between his friends and any threat that came their way. Seeing them happy made him happy. 

At one point Techno had considered it a kind of unhealthy obsession, but now he knows better. It wasn’t that Dream valued their lives over his own, it was that he loved them with so much of his heart that he couldn’t imagine a world without them.

Even after everything, Dream still feels the same. After they betrayed him, threw him in a prison and left him to rot, even though he can barely think about them without having a breakdown, he still cares about them. 

There’s a pit in Techno’s stomach. Where he would normally feel the raging fires of anger, now there’s only a void. 

His shirt is wet with tears. 

“W-why d-did e-e-everything have t-to go wrong?!” Dream cries out, weakly hitting Techno’s torso. He sobs and gasps for air, curling up impossibly tighter. 

“I-I—!” All at once, the tension seems to bleed out of him. He slumps against Techno so much that he has to tighten his hold on Dream to keep him from slipping to the floor. 

“I d-don’t want to be a-afraid anymore,” he murmurs between hiccuped sobs. His voice is so small that Techno is barely able to hear it. 

“W-why can’t I be h-happy?” 

Techno’s heart breaks. 

Abruptly, he realizes why Phil stopped him from interrupting Dream. His friend, his brother, must have been holding this in for a long time, probably long before the prison was even built. With so much stress and responsibility on his shoulders, a breakdown like this was inevitable. He held it in and it kept on building and building until finally coming to a head after far too long. 

It took war, betrayal, being thrown in prison, and two encounters with the people he fears most to push Dream to let it all out like this. 

For the first time in a long, long time, silent tears fall down Techno’s cheeks. 

Phil is there in an instant, wrapping his arms and wings around both of them and squeezing them close. 

“It’s okay. You can still be happy. Everything will be alright. I’m so proud of you both.” 

His gentle reassurances soothe their wounded souls, and now it’s not just Dream being comforted anymore. 

Dream’s cries are loud and painful, his lungs heaving with the force of it. Techno’s cries are soundless, the only evidence of his sadness being the little droplets falling from his chin. 

Both of them are far too young. 

Phil whispers praise and encouraging words, a constant stream flowing out of his mouth as he watches them fall apart. 

Eventually the tears run dry. Dream tires himself out and falls silent, simply lying there as he takes steady breaths. At one point he releases his grip on Techno’s shirt to wrap his arms around his torso instead. 

Phil pulls back and Techno nearly whines at the loss, but Phil doesn’t leave. He puts a hand on Techno’s shoulder and gently pushes him down to the blanket nest so he’s lying on his back, Dream sprawled out on top of him. It’s a little uncomfortable, but when Phil settles beside them and drapes his wings over them like a big, warm blanket, he finds that he doesn’t mind all that much. 

As he lies there, feeling warm and cared for, Techno thinks that falling apart might not be so bad as long as they fall apart together. 

Phil looks down at his boys and wonders.

He wonders if Dream is going to be okay after this. In the two weeks since Phil found him, he’s been improving every day. 

Physically, he looks so much healthier. The wounds from the prison have almost entirely healed with only a few small scars in their place, his ankle is still healing but his limp is getting better, and Phil can’t count every single one of his ribs anymore. With the occasional sparring lessons from Techno, his muscles have been building up. There might not be any obvious differences yet, but Phil is sure he’ll be back to peak health soon. 

Mentally, now that’s a different story. He still has panic attacks, and the appearance of George and Sapnap certainly didn’t help with that. Although he’s only had the one nightmare so far, Phil is sure there will be more to come. Despite that, Dream has latched onto Phil and Techno as sources of comfort and Phil is eternally grateful for that. He doesn’t want to think about how bad Dream would have gotten at this point if he didn’t have someone to help him. 

Overall, he’d say Dream is doing better, despite a few setbacks. He doesn’t flinch away from every touch or hug the walls when he’s walking through the house or constantly watch Phil to make sure he’s not doing something wrong. He’s still scared and unsure, but not as much as he was before. He’s healing, and that’s all Phil can ask of him. 

He wonders if Techno is okay. He hasn’t seen Techno cry in years, and the sight is admittedly a little odd. It feels wrong to see such a hardened warrior cry. 

He feels a bit bad. Techno came to his house expecting only Phil to be there and instead finds that Phil has not only adopted a fourth son but that new son is a traumatized Dream. He probably visited to get away from all the stress of being near L’Manburg but now he’s taken up the responsibility of caring for Dream, which is arguably even more stressful. 

Well, Phil can’t really blame himself for that. Techno chose to stay, chose to be a big brother instead of letting Phil handle everything himself. If Techno wanted to leave then he would have. Still, Phil worries. 

He wonders what’s going to happen to George and Sapnap. They can’t stay here, their effect on Dream is too great for it to be healthy, but he can’t just send them back to L’Manburg and tell them to deal with it. Dream obviously still cares about them even if he can’t handle being in the same room as them. Maybe Phil should set up a day where they can visit Dream, with Dream’s permission of course.

Phil smiles at the thought. It sounds very similar to a playdate, and the image of a toddler-sized Dream causing chaos with smaller versions of George and Sapnap is probably the most adorable thing he’s ever imagined. 

He shakes away the thought. He can get caught up in daydreams later when he actually has time to spare. George and Sapnap are leaving today, preferably within the next few hours so they have plenty of time to travel before stopping for a break. 

Phil sighs, glancing down at his boys again. They seem content for now, both resting with their eyes closed but not sleeping. 

At his sigh, Techno opens one eye to stare up at him. His expression is just as blank as always, but Phil knows his son well enough to recognize a question when he sees one. 

“We need to have a talk. All of us.” He gestures to the open door for emphasis. All of them being not just Phil and Techno but also Dream, George, and Sapnap. He’s not looking forward to it, but it has to happen, preferably sooner rather than later. 

Blearily opening his other eye, Techno huffs and shifts to get Dream’s attention. 

Dream must be exhausted because it seems to take far too much effort just to turn his head to the side to see Phil. He looks exhausted too. Phil can see the beginnings of shadows under his half-lidded eyes and his hair is still messed up from earlier, giving him a very disheveled look like he just rolled out of bed. His face is damp with tears and snot. 

Phil grabs the edge of a blanket and gently wipes it away. Dream grimaces but holds still as Phil cleans him up a bit. And then when he’s done Phil sits back and gives Dream a warm smile that has the boy’s lips twitching into a grin as well. 

Tossing the blanket aside for later, Phil also takes the time to comb through Dream’s hair, fixing it like he was trying to do earlier. He tugs at the tangles until they smooth themselves out and when he lightly scratches at Dream’s scalp he gives a raspy but content hum, leaning into the touch. 

Phil regrets that they can’t stay like that for a bit longer, but they really do have to talk or else George and Sapnap are going to spend another night in the living room and Dream is going to have another breakdown. 

Dream whines when Phil lifts his wings, shivering lightly. Phil is quick to reach out and grab Dream under the arms. Techno releases his own hold on Dream and Phil lifts the boy into his arms. 

As soon as he can, Dream wraps his arms around Phil’s neck and tucks his head under Phil’s chin. Phil maneuvers him until he has a secure hold of Dream and even though Dream wasn’t tense to begin with he can still feel the way Dream relaxes in his arms. 

Phil smiles to himself fondly. The last time he held Dream like this was after he hurt his ankle. Dream had clung to him the same way then and Phil is struck by how child-like he is. 

It reminds him of when his other boys were young and he would jump at any opportunity to hold them. When Wilbur was sad, when Techno wanted to get away from his brothers, when Tommy was getting a bit too rough, he would hold them and it was like everything was better. 

They would always get excited when he wrapped his wings around them, so in awe that they never pulled on his feathers or dared to even touch them if their hands were dirty. He still remembers the sparkles in little Tommy’s eyes the first time he saw Phil spread his wings. 

He wraps his wings around Dream now. It’s only for a moment, he can’t balance himself very well with his wings bent forward like that, but he delights in the way Dream breathes a tiny sigh of relief and holds onto Phil a little tighter. 

Techno sits up, wiping at his eyes as subtly as he can. He glances at Phil and there’s a softness in his eyes as his gaze drifts to Dream. He’s the first to stand up, with Phil right behind him, Dream still held against him. 

He notices that Dream has gotten heavier. His back is straining a bit more than usual and despite the ache he’s glad. It means Dream has been eating well and gaining back the weight he lost. Phil looks forward to the day he struggles to lift Dream up. He’s going to miss having the ability to carry the boy around like a little kid, but Dream will be healthy and Phil will be so proud. 

Phil isn’t looking forward to the conversation he’s going to have, but with Dream and Techno by his side he thinks it won’t be so bad. As much as he is the protector of the family, his family is his strength. 

Techno holds the door open for him and Phil walks out with a little more confidence than before.


	9. So, About The Prison...

When Phil trudges down the stairs, Techno walking ahead of him like a kind of escort, he finds George and Sapnap exactly where he left them the night before. They both look up when they hear the stairs creak and Phil catches how they immediately zero in on Dream, their expressions morphing into surprise. 

As if sensing the eyes on him, Dream tightens his grip on Phil’s shirt and presses his face farther into his collarbone. Besides that, he remains relaxed in Phil’s hold and breathes deeply. He’s probably too tired from his breakdown earlier to really work himself up again. 

“You’re okay, mate. I’ve got you,” Phil whispers to him, because even if he’s not panicking right now, a little extra comfort can still help. 

He makes his way to the second couch opposite from George and Sapnap and settles down, wrapping one wing around Dream. Techno comes to a stop beside the couch, crossing his arms and glaring mostly at George. Sapnap shivers and looks away. 

Phil sighs. “Techno,” he calls, unfurling his other wing invitingly. 

Techno raises an eyebrow at him as if to say “Really?” But Phil is undeterred and shakes his wing a bit in emphasis. 

Techno stares, Phil stares back, and eventually his son caves. With a huff and one more glare, he sits down beside Phil, relaxing into the wing draped over his shoulders like a cloak. 

When he looks back, Sapnap is staring somewhere around the wing covering Dream and George is glancing between the three of them sporadically, his mouth slightly open like he wants to say something. 

“How is your nose?” he asks innocently, breaking the tense silence that had settled in the room. 

Sapnap jolts, quickly searching Phil’s expression as if he’s trying to tell if Phil is joking or not. 

“Um, it’s good, I think. Still kinda hurts I guess…” His gaze slides over to Techno almost unconsciously and when Techno glares at him he hurries to look away. 

Just yesterday Sapnap seemed to have a permanent scowl and a challenging glint in his eye. He was still the fiery personality that Phil had always known him as. Now he’s acting more like he was when Phil was fixing up his face. He’s quiet, submissive, and despondent. 

He wonders if Sapnap will ever get that fire back. Phil hopes he does. All these conflicts happening in L’Manburg have taken so much already. 

George is harder to get a good read on. If Phil didn’t know any better, he’d say George is still the same as ever. It’s the small things that really give him away. Where his appearance is normally well maintained, his hair is tangled, his clothes are ruffled, and his iconic goggles are nowhere to be seen. But if Phil looks really closely, he can see the far-away look in his normally bright and excited eyes. 

Phil only realizes he’s staring when George shuffles awkwardly in place. Reminding himself why he’s here, Phil clears his throat and begins speaking. 

“We need to talk about what’s going to happen.”

He winces internally at how ominous that statement sounds. Before anyone can ask for clarification, he continues. 

“It takes about two weeks of travel to get from here to L’Manburg on foot. I assume you left as soon as the compass locked on to Dream.”

He sees Sapnap wince and George give him a perplexed look.

It wasn’t too difficult of an assumption to make. He knows that the only way they could have found Dream so quickly was with an enchanted compass and he knows that they all have access to enchanted compasses from what he’s heard of their manhunt games. The compasses don’t work in the nether, so they had to wait until Dream appeared in the overworld before they could go after him. 

“It takes two days to get to L’Manburg through the nether. Techno can show you the way.”

Techno huffs but doesn’t protest. It’s either he goes and Phil watches over Dream or Phil goes and Techno watches over Dream. He doesn’t doubt Techno’s caretaking abilities, but they can both agree that Phil is better equipped for that sort of thing than Techno is. 

George and Sapnap glance at Techno suspiciously, and Phil can’t really blame them. They probably think he’s going to push them into a lava lake at the first opportunity. 

“I assure you, Techno will guarantee your safety. As long as you don’t provoke him, he won’t fight you.” 

Sapnap squints like he’s not believing a word Phil says, but before he can say something Phil is already changing to subject. 

“There is something more important to talk about.”  
All three pairs of eyes look to him but Phil turns his gaze down. 

“Hey, Dream,” he calls softly. 

Still relaxed in his arms, Dream turns his head slightly so Phil knows he’s listening. 

“Do you want to see George and Sapnap again? After a little bit of time?” 

Dream hesitates, tensing and untensing as he thinks. Phil waits patiently for his answer, lightly rubbing a hand up and down his back.

It takes a minute, but eventually Dream nods. 

George lets out a breath of air. Phil can’t tell if it’s in surprise, relief, or something else. When he looks back up, he finds both George and Sapnap watching Dream with some combination of confusion, excitement, and sadness. 

Phil isn’t surprised by Dream’s answer. He’s having this talk because he fully expected this. The problem is that he can’t let George and Sapnap come over anytime they please and the two obviously have some problems that they need to figure out before they come back. 

He’s not letting them throw Dream into multiple panic attacks again. They need to be better than that, for Dream’s sake at least. 

There’s also the problem of how long they should stay away for and what they’ll be doing in that time. 

If Phil tells them to wait a month before coming back then they’re going to spend all their time counting down the days, likely falling further into a pit of grief and regret. It’s obvious that all they want is to get their friend back, to the point where they disregard their own health. 

They both look skinnier than usual. Maybe that’s just a product of two weeks of traveling through unexplored wilderness, but Phil is willing to bet it’s more than that.   
While Phil helps Dream heal, they need to heal as well if they’re going to get anywhere near that vision of the three of them as friends again. 

An idea pops into Phil’s head. 

“George, Sapnap.”

They both snap their heads up to look at him. 

“The prison.”

Dream tenses at the word and Phil takes a moment to calm him again before continuing. 

“Before you come back, you need to tear down the prison. Every torch, brick, and piece of redstone. I want it all gone.”

Sapnap’s eyes widen and George looks at him like he’s crazy. Phil knows it’s going to take a long time, probably months. But if they’re going to make this right then that prison has to go. Nobody deserves to be put in a place like that, and the sooner it’s gone the better. 

“You can get people to help you, even blow it up if you want, but this is something you both have to do. As long as it still stands, you won’t be welcome here.”

They both share a glance and Phil can see the exact moment where they come to an agreement. There’s a kind of determination in their expressions now.

“Okay, we’ll do it,” George says, and Phil nods decisively.

“There’s one more thing,” he adds. They both seem to lean forward in anticipation, eager to prove themselves now that they have a goal to work towards. Phil is glad to see it.

Phil smiles. “You have to take care of yourselves.” 

Their expressions fall and Techno huffs a laugh beside him. Phil rolls his eyes internally. Techno always hounds on him for being such a mom to every person he meets. 

“That means three meals a day, every day. Make sure you’re sleeping every night, preferably eight hours or more. If you’re tired or injured you take a break until you get better. Some friendly conversation would also do you both some good.”

They give him incredulous looks, clearly thinking he’s joking. Techno snickers to himself, obviously delighted. Phil can even feel Dream smile against his collarbone. 

Ignoring how hilarious his boys seem to think this is, Phil gives his guests a stern look that has them immediately straightening. At least he has their attention.

“I mean it,” he says seriously, the friendly atmosphere disappearing as quickly as it came. 

“I know Dream isn’t the only one who’s having a hard time lately. If I could help all of you at the same time then I would, but at the moment I’m here for Dream. You both need to help each other. Take care of your bodies and your minds. I won’t have you mining until you waste away.

“You need to process everything that’s happened and be there for Dream, not stuck wishing for things to go back to the way they were.”

George and Sapnap are speechless, Sapnap’s mouth hanging open slightly. George is the first to regain himself, nodding quickly.

“Of course,” he says like they’re having a normal, friendly conversation. And then, in a softer, smaller voice, he says “We’ll do our best… for Dream.”

Sapnap’s jaw shuts with a click and he frantically nods along. “For Dream,” he says just as softly.

Phil smiles and glances down at Dream again. “Is that alright with you, Dream?” 

There’s no hesitation this time as Dream nods his approval against his chest and Phil doesn’t miss the way both Sapnap and George’s shoulders sink as the tension leaves them. 

“Now, about the compass,” Phil begins.

The tension returns just as quickly as it came. Sapnap even curls into himself, squinting at him suspiciously. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take it away from you. Actually, I want to give you a better one that should also work in the nether, so you can find your way back here.”

“Wha— You can do that?!” 

Dream twitches in his grip at the shout and Phil is quick to remind him that he’s safe. Sapnap deflates in his seat with a very guilty expression. Techno sends him a death glare that has him shivering. 

“Yes, I can,” he replies calmly. “I have a few spare lying around here somewhere.”

He gives Techno a meaningful look and his son huffs before getting up to check the basement. That’s usually where Phil stores most of his things. 

“Since when can compasses work in the nether?” George asks.

“Since Fundy and Sam started experimenting with redstone a few years back,” Phil replies easily, although the memories make his heart ache.

He remembers when Fundy was still little and so curious about the world. Wilbur had taken him to meet Sam one day and Fundy had been fascinated by the many redstone contraptions in his house. It only took a few hours for Sam to teach Fundy the basics of redstone. It took a few weeks of the kid constantly begging Wilbur to go see Sam before he came up to Wilbur and Phil one day to present them with the first lodestone compass. 

Fundy had gone on for hours about how it worked and how fun it was to make and everything they could do with it. It was the second time Phil has ever seen Wilbur burst into tears of happiness. He was so proud of his little fox son. 

Phil had been proud of his grandson too, but now Fundy is all grown up and his only goal in life is to kill his former family. That innocence is gone. It disappeared the moment Wilbur started acting different, the moment he stopped recognizing Wilbur as his father. 

He’s still so young, far too young to have gone through everything he has.

Phil shakes the thoughts away. No use getting caught up in the past right now. 

Luckily it’s in that moment that Techno comes back with a compass in hand. Phil is grateful for his son’s swiftness. 

Techno wordlessly hands the compass to Sapnap, who takes it from his hands nervously, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Phil sighs internally. How ironic that George and Sapnap are going to have a much tougher time getting Techno to forgive them than Dream, despite the fact that Dream is the one they hurt in the first place. Techno probably feels like it’s his job to be angry on Dream’s behalf. It’s probably a good thing, seeing as Dream doesn’t seem angry at all, just scared and confused and desperate for any shred of positive attention.

Dream was angry earlier during his breakdown, but that was less towards George and Sapnap and more towards his circumstances in general. He hates that he was put in the prison, and that he feels like he can’t be happy, but not at the people who caused him to feel that way. 

But Techno is definitely angry at them, and although Phil can see their reasoning, he’s angry at them too. No matter what reasoning they have, there’s no excuse for what they did to Dream.

But Phil can make them do better. Instead of continuing the circle of violence and grudges, this can be the start of something better. A little kindness can go a long way. Hopefully he doesn’t regret it, but with the way they keep looking at Dream he doesn’t think he will. 

Techno takes his seat and George leans over Sapnap’s shoulder to get a look at the compass. The needle is spinning around at the moment, but Phil doesn’t doubt that it still works just fine. 

“That will lead you through the nether back to the portal. Don’t lose it.”

They both nod at him seriously even as they continue to stare at the compass. 

“Well, with all that out of the way, Techno will show you how to get back.”

Techno huffs and rises to head back upstairs. George and Sapnap watch him go nervously.

“I assume you brought armor with you?”

George nods and starts ruffling through a bag that Phil didn’t even realize they had. Out comes two sets of netherite armor. They’re thinner and cover less than most full sets of armor, probably for traveling convenience. George passes one set to Sapnap and they start suiting up, the silent room being filled with clanking.

Everyone in the room startles when Dream suddenly whimpers and Phil abruptly realizes why. 

They were probably wearing armor when they threw Dream in prison. He must have some bad memories of the same sounds they’re making now. 

Dream begins to shake in his arms and Phil holds him tighter. “Shhhh, you’re okay, mate. I’m here.” 

It takes a minute for him to calm down again, and when Phil looks up he sees those guilty expressions. He nods his head towards the door and they get the message. As quietly as they can, they make their way out of the house, thankfully closing the door behind them. 

Dream shifts and Phil loosens his arms to let him. He turns his head to glance at the door as if making sure George and Sapnap are really gone. Then he turns to Phil and he catches a glimpse of Dream’s furrowed brow and teary eyes before he locks eyes with Phil and his expression melts into such stark relief and warmth. 

Phil smiles and wraps his other wing around Dream, delighting isn’t he way he sinks into Phil’s grip even more than before. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, and Dream nods and snuggles back under Phil’s chin with a sigh of contentment. 

How did Phil get so lucky, finding Dream? 

Techno comes back into the room, decked out in full netherite with a bow, quiver, and sword on his back. His signature red cape and gold crown make him appear much larger and more intimidating than he is. 

Dream lifts his head to see and Techno gives him a grin so soft it could only be meant for his brother. 

He reaches out and ruffles Dream’s hair, making a mess out of it. Dream sputters indignantly and pouts at him, but Techno only chuckles. 

“Try not to die while I’m gone.”

Dream pouts some more, dodging away from Techno’s attempt to mess up his hair again. 

“Prom-mise,” Dream rasps back. 

Techno nods, a kind of mellowness to him that tells Phil their four-day journey will likely turn out to be three just because Techno will want to see Dream again as soon as possible. There’s no question that, despite the short amount of time they’ve got to know each other since Phil started taking care of Dream, Techno already cares deeply for the boy. 

They are brothers now, and Phil doesn’t think there’s anything that could tear that bond apart. 

Techno heads for the door. When he swings it open, George and Sapnap are there, fully suited up and ready to go. 

They both look to Dream and he shifts to look back at them. He untangles one hand from Phil’s shirt and gives them a small, shaky wave that has them both smiling wider than Phil thinks he’s ever seen them smile. Although that’s not saying much since he barely sees them at all, he’s glad to see it all the same.

Techno trudges down the cobblestone path leading down the mountain to the portal with a grumble and Sapnap and George and quick to follow, running a bit to catch up with Techno’s long strides. 

Phil gets up from the couch, Dream still held securely to his chest, and together they watch the trio go.

As George and Sapnap race ahead, Techno stops for a moment to glance back at them, and even from a distance Phil can see the absolute love in his eyes. Then he turns and they’re gone. 

Phil closes the door with his foot and carries Dream back to the living room. It’ll be three days at least before Techno returns, so they have lots of time to kill until then. 

Carefully holding Dream up with one arm, Phil reaches for one of the music disks on the bookshelves and slides it into the jukebox. The soothing melody of Chirp flows through the house and he leans back against the couch so he can wrap his wings around his boy once again. 

His boy. Techno’s brother. 

His son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got big plans for the next few chapters. Lots of angst to come.  
> 💜💜💜


	10. Learning to Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s an outline of the timeline for this fanfic:
> 
> Dream gets thrown in the prison early, way before it’s finished, so there’s no lava and there’s nothing in the cell. It’s just an empty room. There’s no light and no sound, so it’s basically three months of torture. 
> 
> Because he’s put in the prison early, certain things end up never happening. The community house is never destroyed, Phil, Techno, and Dream never blow up L’Manburg, Tommy never escapes exile by going to Techno’s house, Slimecicle and Foolish haven’t joined the server yet, Snowchester never exists, Niki never reaches her villain arc, Ghostbur hasn’t asked to be revived yet. 
> 
> By the time Dream is put in prison, Tommy is still in exile, Dream has only just started to manipulate Ranboo, Techno has already killed Quackity, Sam is taking a break from working on the prison to experiment with new inventions (aka Cogchamp server), only Bad is still infected by the egg, and everyone else is pretty much doing their own thing. 
> 
> Immediately after Dream is put in prison, Tubbo frees Tommy from exile, allowing him to roam around L’Manburg as he pleases. Dream has his discs, but since he’s in prison and nobody is allowed to visit him, everyone believes that the discs are going to be lost forever. 
> 
> During Dream’s time in the prison, George and Sapnap drift apart until finally, after three months, Sapnap can’t take the guilt anymore and he goes to George to get Dream out. Fundy joins them and as they’re going to the prison they run into Sam, who tells them that the prison wasn’t finished and it wasn’t supposed to be used yet. At this point, Sam has just come back from his break and it’s his first time hearing that Dream is in the prison. Everyone is understandably horrified and they get Dream out as soon as possible. 
> 
> After Dream disappears, the word quickly spreads and everyone freaks out trying to find him. Some people are scared of him and some are scared for him. George and Sapnap get their compass and leave to go find him themselves. 
> 
> And that’s the timeline. It’s pretty rough and might not make a lot of sense cuz I have a horrible sense of time but it’s there for reference. You might need it for what I have planned in the next chapter. :)  
> 💜💜💜

“Would you like to come to the village with me?” 

Dream looks up from his task, flicking another sweet berry into his mouth while dropping a handful of them in his basket at the same time. 

Phil stands up from his crouched position, stretching his back with an audible crack. He brushes some of the dirt off his pants and bends down to grab his own basket full of wheat, carrots, and sugarcane. 

When he turns back to Dream, he’s tilting his head adorably as he considers the question.

This is only his third time asking Dream about the village. The first time had been a few days after Phil found him and he had freaked out at the mere mention of people. He had barely even tolerated Phil at the time. The second time he had hesitated a bit but ultimately shook his head no.

This time Phil is surprised to see him nod a yes instead. Luckily he recovers quickly and gives Dream a warm smile. 

“Alright. Come on then.”

As Phil heads for the house, Dream scrambles to grab his own basket and race after him. Some of the berries go flying and Phil only raises an eyebrow at him. Dream looks away sheepishly and makes an effort to slow down so he doesn’t lose any more berries. 

Phil sets his basket down on the kitchen counter and Dream sets his own down right beside it. 

They both make their way upstairs to clean themselves up and once Phil has changed into his signature green shirt and pants, grey coat, and striped bucket hat, his nether it’s sword strapped to his hip, he goes down to the basement to collect enough things to trade. 

He gathers heaps of coal, iron, and diamonds plus some bundles of wheat. Normally he would bring all kinds of crops, but the snow has only just melted and everything he stored for winter has been eaten. He only has enough to cook with, not nearly enough for trading just yet. 

He takes plenty of emeralds as well. Even if he were to buy everything in the village he would still have stacks upon stacks of the stuff. He’s pretty much set for life. 

Carefully wrapping everything up in a leather bag, he slings it over his shoulder and makes his way up out of the basement. 

Dream is in the living room waiting for him. He’s wearing the usual green hoodie but now he’s added a pair of black ripped jeans that must have come from Wilbur’s room and equally black boots that must have come from Techno’s. 

Dream lightly scuffs one of his boots along the floor self-consciously. 

Phil huffs fondly and reaches over to fix the boy’s messy hair, smoothing it into something a bit nicer but still with a touch of wildness. He notices a smear of dirt on Dream’s face and goes to wipe it away. 

Dream grimaces but doesn’t move away, and when Phil steps back to get a good look at him he pouts and mumbles something under his breath indignantly.

“Oh hush,” Phil retorts with a chuckle. 

He walks past Dream to the kitchen to grab the list he made the other day. 

After Techno had left with George and Sapnap early yesterday, Dream had refused to leave his side and Phil had ended up trapped on the couch with a sleeping Dream under one arm and a book in the other. He had managed to get his hands on a piece of paper and a pencil at some point, maybe sometime after he carried Dream up to his bed and tucked him in. 

He had expected for Dream to refuse the offer to go with him to the village. Phil would have made the trip short and gathered enough things for a hearty dinner. Now that Dream has decided to go along, he imagines they’ll be staying for a while longer. 

The list is tucked into his pocket and the bag is secured to his back, nestled comfortably between his wings. 

Phil goes to open the door and Dream follows right behind him, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. He makes a mental note to check out some gloves for Dream. It’s still a bit chilly after all, and he recalls that Dream used to wear fingerless gloves often. 

He walks over to the very edge of the cliff his house is settled on, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air and let his feathers feel the gentle breeze calling out to him. 

The view is beautiful. Vast rolling hills and forests that stretch on forever, a deep blue ocean with waves lapping at the shore and dozens of rivers and streams winding through it all. 

Dream comes up beside him and when he glances over he finds that Dream has an expression that Phil can’t even describe. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that Phil hasn’t seen in anyone in a long time. He turns to Phil and smiles a bit nervously. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when Dream is happy enough to smile without that little bit of hesitance. His heart would probably fail him right there and then. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Phil lifts his wings and experimentally flaps them a few times. He hasn’t been flying as much as he usually does, especially not with other people. He probably should’ve preened his feathers before thinking about flying. He’s not worried though. 

He takes care to take his hat and reach back to tuck it into his bag lest he lose it. 

With one powerful downstroke Phil is launched into the air. His wings beat relentlessly to keep him up as he looks down towards Dream. 

The boy is awestruck, eyes wide as he stares up at Phil, and he abruptly realizes that Dream hasn’t seen him fly before. 

He was unconscious when Phil flew him up to his house and before that Phil never really used his wings in L’Manburg. He’s flown down to the village twice while Dream was awake and even then the boy wasn’t there to actually see him lift off. 

Smirking to himself, Phil gets the sudden urge to show off. Maybe later though. They still have errands to run after all.

Carefully lowering himself down so he’s right above Dream, he reaches his arms out. 

Realizing what he’s trying to do, Dream suddenly looks very nervous, but he dutifully reaches his own arms out to grab onto Phil’s arms, who grips Dream’s arms in turn. 

Phil heaves him up and as soon as his feet leave the ground Dream yelps and holds on as tight as he can. Phil chuckles.

He’s pretty sure Dream isn’t afraid of heights. Or at least he hopes he’s not. 

He tucks his wings in and dives over the side of the cliff.

Dream doesn’t scream per se, but he does grit his teeth and give Phil a face that says “You’re crazy!” Like he really wants to scream. Phil of course thinks this is absolutely hilarious and purposefully doesn’t look to see how far away from the ground they are just to freak him out a bit more. 

Land rises up to meet them and Phil spreads his wings at the perfect time, Dream’s dangling feet just barely missing the top of a tree. 

The momentum of their fall carries them high above the forest and, taking pity on Dream, he slows into a comfortable glide.   
He lets out a deep breath like he was holding it the entire time and Phil snickers at him. When he looks down, Dream is glaring at him. 

“Oh you’re fine, you big baby.”

Dream glares some more and Phil laughs. 

The rest of the flight is peaceful. Phil decides to take a more scenic route and flies over a prairie full of colorful flowers and the river that always seems to sparkle just right in the morning light. 

But as much as Phil wants to fly around forever and show Dream all of the sights around his home, there’s only so much light in the day.

The village comes into view, a nice place that’s bigger than most villages settled comfortably beside a dark oak forest and a river with vast plains filled with horses, sheep, and cows on the other side. 

Once they make it across the river, he swoops down. He carefully sets Dream down first before landing himself nearby. He puts a little bit of distance between them just so he doesn’t end up smacking Dream with his wings. He did that with Techno once when he was still getting used to carrying other people around and he doesn’t want a repeat of that disaster. 

When he straightens himself out, tucks his wings back in, and pulls his hat out, he turns to see Dream wobbling on his feet, giving Phil the most adorable pout. 

Even as he laughs, Phil is quick to offer Dream his shoulder to lean on, and he takes the offer without too much grumbling. With Dream leaning against him and Phil’s wing over his shoulders, they walk to the village. 

It’s when they get closer and begin to see people walking around that Dream slows to a stop. When Phil looks over, he finds an uncertain, nervous expression on his boy’s face. 

Phil isn’t surprised. He expected Dream to have second thoughts about being around so many people at once. Even though they’re complete strangers who likely have no idea who Dream is let alone what he looks like, it’s still a scary situation. 

He uses his wing to gently pat his back, making sure Dream is looking at him before he speaks. 

“You’re okay, mate. I’ll be with you the whole time. Promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He gives Dream the warmest smile he can give.

Dream gives one more uncertain glance towards the village, and nods. He’s putting his trust in Phil, and the notion doesn’t go over his head. 

Dream has been burned by people he used to trust before, and to trust someone again after all of that must be difficult for him. Phil has done everything in his power to be the person Dream can have faith in. 

He’s going to continue doing everything in his power not to let him down. 

Dream takes a step forward and Phil takes it as the invitation it is. One step at a time, they make it to the village.

It’s a cozy place filled with market stalls and little farms. A tree with two bells hanging from its branches sits in the center where most of the people seem to be milling around. An iron golem lumbers slowly through the crowd and gives Phil and Dream a meet passing glance before moving on. 

The people here look happy, excited to get back into the swing of things as the snow melts and life returns to the world. 

Phil leads Dream into the center of the village where most of the marketplace resides. Several groups of people look their way and smile invitingly or wave at them and Phil waves back. He’s pretty well known around here. 

He doesn’t like to brag, but Phil knows he’s a big reason why the village has become so successful. With his nearly infinite supply of goods and emeralds and his willingness to buy almost anything that catches his eye, he’s helped a lot of little hobbies turn into real businesses. Plus, he tends to attract lots of customers. His iconic wings have become quite the novelty. 

He catches lots of people looking at his wings now, even people he knows have seen him many times before. It doesn’t help that he recently cleaned up his feathers so their much shinier and the white pattern is more visible. 

He also catches a few people looking at Dream, and Phil ruffles the wing he isn’t using to keep their attention on himself instead. Dream must notice his efforts because he takes Phil’s hand and squeezes it. 

Smiling, Phil squeezes back and doesn’t let go. He doesn’t miss the way Dream relaxes after that and resolves to keep holding his hand for as long as Dream wants him to. 

He doesn’t see himself letting go anytime soon.

He takes Dream to one of his favorite stalls first. It’s a small but high quality clothing place run by a nice old lady and her daughter. He visits them every time he comes to the village and he tends to buy something every time as well. 

In fact, his favorite coat, the one he’s wearing now, he bought from their store. The hoodie Dream is wearing also came from them. 

Of course the daughter, Abigail, spots him as soon as the stall comes into view and she gives him a wide grin and a friendly wave. Her mother, Jude, rushes to grab something from the rack of clothes behind the stall. They must have made something special. 

Phil and Dream come to a stop in front of them and before he can get a word out Abi is already talking.

“Wow, we haven’t seen you for a whole three days! That’s a new record,” she jokes, leaning her elbows on the counter with her head in her hands. 

Her gaze slides over to Dream, who nervously shuffles closer to Phil. “And who’s this cutie?” 

Phil reaches his wing around Dream farther, absolutely covering him in feathers protectively.

“This is Dream,” he says with a purposefully lowered voice. “I’ve been taking care of him for a few weeks now.”

“Ooooh, I see.” She turns her attention back to Phil and he’s grateful for it. 

With how much he’s talked to Abi and Jude over the years, they both know practically his entire life story. So when he says he’s taking care of Dream, she knows not to crowd him or ask him dozens of questions like she normally would to someone she’s just met. Phil has always admired Abi’s compassion, and it comes in handy in moments like this. 

“Here it is!” Jude exclaims. She pulls a piece of clothing from the rack and comes up beside Abi to present it to Phil. 

It’s a beautiful cloak that fades from a deep indigo into a sky blue towards the bottom, with a pattern of white crystals near the edges. It’s lined with white fur on the inside and the clasp holding it together is the same shape and color as the hardcore heart that often adorns his clothing. But the best part is that the cloak is long enough and shaped in such a way that it holds onto the joints of his wings and is meant to cover both of them entirely. 

Phil’s eyes widen at the sight, absolutely awestruck. “You made this for me?” 

Jude rolls her eyes. “Of course it’s for you, dummy. You see anyone else around here with wings?” 

“I mean… You guys have made me some incredible things before, but this is just… Wow.”

Abi chuckles. “I think he likes it,” she mock-whispers to her mother. 

“Here, try it on or something.” Jude tosses the outfit to Phil, who sputters and fumbles with it, trying not to drop it. Jude turns back to the rack and Abi gives him a smirk.

He raises an eyebrow at her and turns to Dream. The kid is staring at the outfit with wide eyes, the hand he‘s not using twitches like he wants to reach out and touch it. 

“Hey, mate. Do you think you can let go for a bit so I can put this on?” He holds the outfit up in emphasis. 

Dream jolts and quickly lets go of Phil’s hand and steps away sheepishly. He hears Abi give a very loud “Awwww” and he can tell Dream heard it too by the way he blushes and refuses to look at her. 

Phil gives him a reassuring smile and unclasps the overcoat so he can throw it over his shoulders and then his wings. 

It fits perfectly, and the fur on the inside makes it very comfortable. It’s when he dares to stretch his wings out that he can really see it in its full glory. 

He twists his wings this way and that, getting a good look at how it manages to hold onto his wings without any discomfort. It’s warm and pretty and he knows he’s smiling like an idiot as he admires it. 

When he looks up, both Abi and Dream are watching him with similar grins on their faces. He does a little twirl for them and Abi claps for him.

Phil already knows he’s never going to want to take this off. 

Just as he’s about to reach into his bag and give Abi and Jude as many emeralds as they’ll let him give them, Jude returns with two more outfits in hand. 

One of them is a cape even longer than Phil’s overcoat with the same blue fade and even more white fur. It’s connected by a short but sturdy looking gold chain with two pins in the shapes of little crowns. He knows this must be for Techno. 

The other one is more of a mystery. It’s a cute poncho with a hood attached, still with the same blue colors and white fur on the inside. Where Techno’s cape has no pattern, this outfit has the same white diamond pattern near the bottom that Phil’s coat has. It doesn’t look like it’s meant for him or Techno. 

Jude must see his perplexed look because she sets the clothes down on the counter and gives him a flat look. 

“You came here about two weeks ago with a tattered old piece of junk asking for a replacement, and I knew that green hoodie wasn’t for you or any of your sons.” She gives a pointed glance at Dream, who’s wearing the exact same hoodie that she’s talking about. Dream looks down at his hoodie and then at the poncho on the counter and both his and Phil’s faces light up in realization. 

Jude practically shoves the poncho into Dream’s face, and he doesn’t startle too badly. He hesitantly takes the outfit and slips it over his head. Instantly he seems to melt into it, pulling his shoulders up so he can bury the bottom half of his face in the soft fur. 

Abi snickers at him. “I’d say we did a good job then.”

Dream nods enthusiastically at the same time that Phil lightly flaps his wings in appreciation. They’ve really outdone themselves this time.

Pulling his bag from his back, Phil piles a few handfuls of emeralds onto the counter, enough to pay for the outfits and then some. 

Jude sighs and Abi rolls her eyes. He always tries to pay them way too much and they’ve gotten used to his antics over time. 

“Fine, I’ll take your money this one time. But this is the only time.” Jude glares at him as if that’ll make the message stick more. 

Phil is surprised. He fully expected them to shove half of them back and shoo him away like they always do. He beams at them and Jude gives him a look like she’s already regretting her decision. But she takes the emeralds and hands him Techno’s cape without complaint. 

They leave only after giving many thank you’s and Dream waves goodbye. 

As soon as they’re gone, Dream reaches for Phil’s hand again and he takes it with a smile. 

Jeez, at this rate his heart is going to give out way before his time. But honestly with the way Dream is smiling right now, he thinks dying of happiness might not be so bad. 

Phil shows Dream a bunch of other places after that. They visit the blacksmith, the same one who made the netherite and diamond sword he has strapped to his hip. Dream admires the purple-tinted netherite axe and some finely crafted knives from a distance but doesn’t get any closer than that, memories threatening to rise to the surface. Phil seems to notice his discomfort and quickly guides him to the next stall. 

There’s a small place that sells all kinds of flowers and the little boy running it offers them both some tea. They have a nice conversation even if Dream prefers to stay silent. Phil buys a lily and carefully tucks it into Dream’s hair, pulling a warm smile from him.

When they pass by a stall that sells plushies and dolls, Dream’s gaze lingers on a cute enderman plushie near the back. Before he even knows what’s happening, Phil is already buying it for him and he refuses to let go of it after that. 

From then on, Phil buys anything that Dream looks at for more than a few seconds, seemingly intent on spoiling him as much as possible. Dream feels a little guilty for making him spend so much, but Phil assures him several times that he has more than enough emeralds for anything he could possibly want. 

Phil ends up with a bag full of knickknacks. He also gets Dream a pair of black studded earrings and Phil is so surprised that Dream’s ears are pierced that he just has to get him a few more in a similar style.

He tells Dream that Techno’s ears are pierced as well and suggests that he ask if he has any extra that he’s willing to give to Dream when he gets back from his trip through the nether. 

As the sun begins to set and people start packing up, Phil and Dream start making their way out of the village. 

Dream has taken to swinging their locked hands back and forth, much more relaxed than he was when they first arrived.

He’s happy, happier than he’s been in a long time, but he can’t push away the looming thought that there’s no way this can last. Something always comes to mess everything up, usually because of him.

But he can at least enjoy this time while he still has it. His poncho is cozy and the sunset looks really nice and he loves the way Phil’s wing presses against his back comfortingly. He can have this much at least. 

They get back to the spot where they landed. Phil has to take off his new coat so he can fly and Dream reluctantly takes his poncho off too, not wanting to ruin it the same day he got it. Both outfits are stuffed in Phil’s bag, which looks much bigger and heavier than when they first arrived, and Phil backs away to spread his wings.

Dream doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of looking at Phil’s wings. Back when Dream first met him, sometime after Pogtopia, they were the first thing he noticed about the man. They were much darker back then, almost black, and Dream remembers thinking he looked like a raven. Now, as Phil launches into the sky once again, his feathers shine a metallic silver, reflecting the orange glow of the sunset, and Dream doesn’t think he’s seen anything like it before. 

When he flies, it’s like he was meant for the sky. 

Phil hovers above him, reaching down towards him, and Dream has to push his thoughts away to focus on the present. As they lock arms and Dream is lifted off the ground again, he really hopes that Phil isn’t going to scare him again. 

He’s not afraid of heights, but hanging hundreds of feet above the ground with only someone holding your wrists keeping you from falling to your death… It’s already a terrifying experience even without the crazy stunt Phil pulled earlier.

He must make some kind of face because Phil chuckles at him. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything crazy this time.”

Dream doesn’t fail to miss the way he mutters “Probably,” under his breath and suddenly he’s a lot more inclined to worry.

If this is what Phil is going to be like every time they go down to the village then Dream is starting to think he should just stay in the house next time. Maybe he should just get his own pair of wings and use them to mess with Phil. 

They fly higher and higher, passing over forests and plains and even a flower biome. They go through a few clouds and Dream never thought he would ever touch a cloud in his lifetime but here he is. 

It feels like the journey takes an eternity, but as they touch down beside the house it’s like no time has passed at all. 

Dream wobbles on shaky legs again but it’s not as bad as it was before and he manages to stumble all the way to the porch before he has to lean on something. Phil grins at him and folds his wings in to follow. 

It’s only now that he’s home that Dream realizes how tired he is and he yawns so wide his jaw clicks. 

“You’re—“

Whatever Phil was about to say is cut off by the loud blaring of a horn. Both of their heads whip in the direction it came from, staring into the small forest by the house with wide eyes. 

They both know that sound. 

Out of the woods comes a massive grey beast, it’s horns glinting menacingly in the light, chains rattling as it walks. On its back sits a man with equally grey skin and a crossbow loaded and ready to fire. Behind the beast comes more people, holding axes and crossbows, their piercing green eyes holding no mercy. 

Dozens of pillagers surround them, ready to attack. This is a raid. 

Dream instinctually reaches for a weapon that isn’t there, the axe that he’s grown so used to using over the years gone. He’s completely defenseless, and all Phil has is a sword, no armor in sight. 

The ravager roars, an unnatural sound that echoes down the mountain. 

There’s a sinking feeling in Dream’s stomach. There’s no way this is going to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! I tricked you into a false sense of security and now I’ve left you on a cliffhanger! My master plan is all coming together. Mhwahahaha!  
> 💜


	11. The Strength to Walk Away

Even though he’s part piglin, Techno really does not enjoy being in the nether. 

It’s hot and sweaty and there’s such an unnecessary amount of lava everywhere. He’s constantly being attacked by ghasts and piglins because, despite the fact that he looks like them, they absolutely hate his guts for whatever reason. 

To put it lightly, it sucks. But what sucks even worse is the fact that he has to watch over two idiots until they get back to L’Manburg and with every passing minute it’s getting more and more difficult to keep himself from stabbing them. 

For the fourth time in the last twelve hours they’ve been traveling he has to steer them away from the nearest bastion, assuring them both that yes they’ve already been looted and no they don’t have time to double check just to make sure. It’s like babysitting actual toddlers. If this is what having kids is like then he really doesn’t envy Phil at all. 

Maybe he should get Phil like a basket of chocolates or something, just for having to put up with the chaotic hellstorm that was little Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy. 

Currently, Sapnap and George are trudging along behind him, glancing longingly at the bastion they just passed. 

Sapnap is faring much better than George, seemingly completely immune to the effects of blistering heat even if he’s sweating buckets just like the rest of them. He just wipes it off and continues on with just as much energy as he always has. 

George, on the other hand, isn’t doing well. He’s been complaining about the heat non-stop since they entered the nether yesterday morning. Techno has grumbled at him to shut up several times, but he only stays silent for about an hour before starting right back up again. Every time they find a patch of soul sand, which tends to be much cooler than the netherack and magma surrounding it, he flops down on top of it and refuses to get up until Techno forces him to his feet again. 

Conversation is stilted at best. After hours of being forced to interact with two people he would much rather run his sword through, Techno isn’t too willing to talk to either of them. He tells them what they need to know and nothing more. The sooner they reach the portal and he doesn’t have to see them for the next few months (or ever if he’s lucky) the better.

They try to keep up conversation between themselves, but it’s painfully obvious that they haven’t talked as friends in a while. Even Techno, who has barely talked to either of them before, can see that their friendship isn’t what it used to be. 

Their conversations tend to devolve either into business talk or awkward silence. They’ve learned that keeping topics light and unrelated to L’Manburg is best. 

They’re talking about flowers now. George complains about how he can’t see the colors and Sapnap teases him for it and they’re both a bit hesitant but overall friendly. 

Techno feels sick just listening to them. 

They hurt Dream, his brother. They locked him in an obsidian cage for three months and didn’t visit him once. How deluded do you have to be to do something like that to a person and expect everything to be fine? They obviously weren’t intending on screwing up their former friend as much as they did but they had to have known that there was no outcome in which Dream would be okay after that. 

And yet Dream still wants to talk to them, to be friends with them again, and Techno respects his wishes but they don’t deserve him. They don’t deserve to sleep in the same house let alone be forgiven. 

Techno knows he’s angry and overprotective, that he’s biased and doesn’t share the same sentiment as Dream and Phil. But nobody hurts his family and gets away with it like nothing happened. 

They have to tear down the prison and it’s going to take a lot of time and energy, but will that be enough? Maybe it’s enough for Phil but not for Techno. 

But he’s not going to kill them. He’s not going to lock them up either. Phil would be disappointed in him and even if he really wants to kill them making Phil disappointed is one line that he can’t cross. 

There’s more than one way to get even though. 

Techno finds a hole in the massive netherack walls and leads the way towards it, intent on giving his weary legs a rest. He’s been forcing the group to walk for hours on end without break but even his vast reserves of stamina need to recharge at some point.

As soon as he gives the cave a brief glance and takes a seat against the wall, George and Sapnap woop tiredly and hurry to get inside and collapse to the ground. 

Techno crosses his arms, tilts his head down, and closes his eyes. He’s not going to sleep, this area is too exposed for that, but it helps him recharge much faster if he’s not doing anything. He keeps one ear out for hostile mobs and another for the two idiots already filling the small space with chatter.

“You’d think that after two weeks of traveling we’d be used to walking by now,” Sapnap laments, leaning against the far wall. 

“I swear it’s the heat! I’m so sweaty and gross,” George replies, splayed out on the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

“What does being sweaty and gross have to do with walking for a long time?” 

“I don’t know! It just sucks.”

“Yeah okay man,” and Techno can practically hear Sapnap’s eye roll. 

“Well, as a normal human who isn’t fireproof, I can tell you it definitely sucks.”

“What do you mean? I am a normal human.”

“No, you’re definitely a weirdo.”

“Oh come on, as if you aren’t.”

“At least I hate the nether just like any other person. Even Technoblade over there is getting bogged down by the heat and he’s half piglin! And you’re over there feeling nothing at all!” 

Sapnap chuckles. “Maybe I’m half blaze or something.”

“Oh please, you’d be a wither skeleton at best, cuz you’re constantly killing me.”

“I bet you’d be a dog because you’re always yapping.”

George sputters something incoherent and the conversation devolves into insults after that. Techno chooses to tune them out. 

He thinks about happier things, like what it would feel like to chop George’s head right off, or how satisfying it would be to drive a trident into Sapnap’s heart. Good times. 

Wouldn’t it be great if Phil was less opposed to murder? Techno definitely thinks so. It’s not like they would be dead forever, they’d just respawn. He’s pretty sure they both have more than one life left. Pretty sure. 

“Hey Techno, is Phil part bird or is he an actual angel?” 

How does Dream put up with these guys? How does anyone put up with these guys? Techno has no clue. 

“Don’t know,” he mutters, only because he knows if he stays silent for too long then they’re just going to keep pestering him until he answers.

“But isn’t he your dad? I figured you would know something like that,” George asks, perplexed.

“Doesn’t matter, never asked.”

That’s technically true, although not quite. He remembers Tommy, when he was very little, had asked Phil once why he has wings and nobody else does. Techno and Wilbur had been in the room at the time, both of them fairly young as well. Phil had told a cute little tale about how a magical flying pig had gifted him a pair of wings. The story was obviously a lie even if they had all enjoyed it at the time. 

Techno remembers seeing Wilbur go up to Phil and ask him a second time. But Phil only smiled and told him he’d tell them all the real story when they were older.

And as they grew older, they never felt the need to ask again. Or at least Techno and Wilbur never needed to. Tommy, on the other hand, probably still believes the ridiculous story Phil had told him years ago. 

Techno himself had completely forgotten, so content with the fact that Phil has wings that he never really thought about it after that day. Until now, that is.

“You never asked?! He’s been your dad for what, twenty years or something?” Sapnap asks incredulously.

Techno peeks one eye open only to give them both a fiery glare which, thankfully, quickly shuts them up. He closes his eye again. 

At this rate he might just end up killing them anyway, even with the threat of Phil’s disappointment. Or maybe he could get away with knocking them out and dragging them the rest of the way to L’Manburg just so he doesn’t have to hear them talk constantly. It would make the trip a bit longer, but it would probably be worth it in the end. 

No more complaining, no more annoying conversations, just him and his thoughts. It would be a lot more relaxing, that’s for sure, although now that he thinks about it he’s not entirely certain he wouldn’t just toss them into a lava pit at the first opportunity. He would definitely consider it.

“He has to be part bird,” Sapnap starts after several moments of blissful silence.

“He’s definitely an angel!” George argues back.

“Angel wings are white, dumbass.”

“Not all the time!”

And off they go again.

Techno gives a long, tired sigh. This day just never ends. 

Finally, finally, they arrive at the L’Manburg portal. It’s still a fair distance away, but it’s visible, and that’s all the permission Techno needs to turn right around and head home. Sapnap already has the new compass with him so they can get back, and with that Techno’s job is over. 

Just thinking about sleeping on his actual bed again has his bones aching. He wants to see Phil and Dream again. Who knows what they’ve been doing while he’s been gone. Hopefully nothing too dramatic, although nothing would surprise him at this point. Phil could’ve sprouted a second pair of wings for all he cares. He just wants to go home. 

Something grabs his cape and Techno stops with a huff, already annoyed. When he turns, he’s not surprised at all to see George holding the end of his cape. As soon as Techno looks at him, he quickly drops it and takes a step back. Smart.

“Um, Techno, thanks, for bringing us here,” he says awkwardly, wincing at his own words. 

Techno huffs again and rolls his shoulder dismissively. He would much rather be doing literally anything else, but he’s too tired to be rude enough to say that out loud. Just as he’s about to turn and head home, Sapnap speaks up.

“And thanks for taking care of Dream. We’re… really sorry, for everything.”

And suddenly all the anger he’s been pushing deep down for this entire journey comes bubbling to the surface. He has to curl his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching for his sword. 

“That’s not good enough,” he snaps, the fire in his eyes boring holes into both of them.

George flinches and Sapnap freezes in place, shocked at the sudden outburst. 

Techno takes a step towards them and they both back up immediately. They seem so small compared to him, like ants he can easily crush under his boot. They wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“You don’t know what you did to him,” he spits, venom on his tongue. 

“He had a nightmare so bad he woke up screaming and couldn’t calm down for nearly an hour. He was so malnourished that even after two weeks he still hasn’t gained back even half of his weight and he can’t look at a piece of bread without feeling nauseous. He’s so terrified of the prison that he can’t bear to close or lock his door because it sends him into a panic attack. 

“Do you really think a half-hearted ‘sorry’ is going to fix that?”

George and Sapnap look heartbroken, on the verge of tears. Techno doesn’t care. They did this to themselves, and he refuses to feel sorry for them.

Taking a very deep breath, Techno forcefully unclenches his hands and turns away from them. If he looks at them any longer he might not be able to hold himself back. 

“Actions speak louder than words, and right now it’s going to take a lot of actions before you can come even close to gaining back the friendship you destroyed. Remember that before you speak to me about being ‘sorry’.”

And with that, Techno makes to leave, but a voice stops him once again.

“Okay,” George says, and when Techno whirls on him he shakily holds his ground.

“Okay,” he repeats, stronger this time, his eyes filled with tears but also something akin to determination. 

“Whatever it takes, we’ll do it. Even if it takes months or years or our whole lives, we’re going to make this right.”

“Whatever it takes,” he says again, softer but still full of conviction.

Sapnap comes up beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“For Dream,” he says, and George nods his agreement.

And for all the rage still burning inside of Techno, as he searches their eyes and finds nothing but pure willpower and longing, for a moment he feels something close to respect for the two ants before him. 

At the very least, they’re trying. Phil always says that that counts for something. Techno doesn’t know if that’s true or not, but Phil is very rarely wrong about anything. 

Just this once, he can show a little mercy. He can always kill them later on anyway.

Techno gives them a firm nod, and his silence speaks volumes. All the tension melts out of them immediately. 

Just this once, Techno reminds himself. And then he turns to leave. Thankfully they don’t stop him this time.

When he makes it a fair distance, he chances a glance behind him and finds them not heading towards the portal but with their arms around each other, locked in a tight hug. He sees the way George’s shoulders shake and how Sapnap’s hands tremble even as they grip the back of his friend’s shirt. 

They’re trying, Techno reminds himself. Phil always says that counts for something. 

He walks until it’s just him alone with his thoughts, and he thinks about home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for context, this is happening at the same time that Phil and Dream are encountering the pillagers. Techno is about a full day’s journey away.   
> 💜


	12. I’m So Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: explicit depictions of violence and gore!
> 
> Also, I was listening to Iron by Woodkid on repeat while writing this chapter and I think it really sets the mood.   
> 💜

“Get inside, now!” 

Suddenly Phil shoves his bag into Dream’s arms and stands between him and the pillagers defensively. Dream blinks and his sword is held by his side, his wings unfurling.

His feathers puff up and once his wings have stretched to their full length, it looks like he’s grown several times larger. Dream is swallowed up in the huge shadow he casts.

He remembers when George and Sapnap found him only days ago, Phil had protected him just like this. He held up his wings to shield Dream from them like he’s doing now, but it’s different this time. 

His stance is different, lower to the ground, and the way he’s holding his wings is absolutely dwarfing everything around him. There’s tension lining his form, but it’s subtle and concentrated in specific areas.

This isn’t the stance of someone simply defending. This time, he’s going for the kill.

Dream’s hands shake at the realization, the bag he’s haphazardly clutched to his chest nearly falling. 

Can Phil even win this fight? Dream doesn’t even know how many of them there are, they’re still spilling out of the forest. He spies at least two evokers in their ranks, and who knows if there’s more ravagers. He’s not sure if even Techno could win against so many. 

“I said get inside!” Phil shouts over his shoulder, and he turns his head just enough for Dream to see one eye. It’s blown wide in what he can only describe as rage, and he flinches back from the sight, nearly tripping over a gap in the wooden porch. 

Phil’s expression softens only slightly. And then in the next moment he turns back to the pillagers, gripping his sword so tight his knuckles turn white. 

“Get inside, Dream,” he murmurs just loud enough for him to hear. “Stay safe.”

The ravager roars, rearing up as the pillager on its back pulls on its chains. It stomps back down with so much force Dream can feel it in his bones. 

He doesn’t want to leave Phil to fight them on his own, but Dream is practically useless right now. With how badly he’s shaking, he’s not sure he can even hold anything let alone an axe. But he needs to help somehow, or else Phil is going to get slaughtered.

Not knowing what else to do, Dream turns tail and runs. He throws the door open and shuts it behind him with a bang. 

There’s the sound of another horn being blown and shouting as the pillagers charge. 

Dream drops the bag on the couch and clamps his hands over his ears, all the noise threatening to completely overload his senses. Lurching through the living room, Dream doesn’t know where to go. 

Does he hide in his room and wait for it to stop? Does he try to find a weapon somewhere? Does he go find armor and join Phil in the fight? 

Swords clash just outside, furious screams ringing in his head—

Dream drops to his knees with a whimper nobody can hear. His nails dig into his scalp, drawing blood as he desperately tries to block everything out. 

He remembers explosions rocking the ground, toppling buildings and creating massive craters. Withers shrieking as they destroy everything in sight. Furious shouting mixed with cheering as an arrow finds its mark. The unintelligible screams of dozens of people as they watch everything crumble. 

It’s all too much. 

He remembers sitting atop a tower, looking down on everyone who seemed so small at the time. The shriek of a firework being launched at Tubbo’s terrified face. The choking, pained noises of Schlatt as he collapses to the ground and doesn’t get back up. The anger and fear in Tommy’s voice as he was thrown out of L’Manburg to begin his exile. 

Sapnap grabbing him from behind and working with George to take him to the prison—

The door slamming as they walk away—

Screaming and pounding at the door as if they could hear him, as if they would care—

It’s too much—

Something slams against the door and it rattles in its hinges but stays firmly shut.

Dream flinches, gasping in air as he remembers where he is and what’s happening just outside. He’s not in the prison. He hasn’t been in the prison for weeks. Phil promised him he would never go back there. 

Phil is just outside, fighting for his and Dream’s lives. And Dream is curled up on the floor panicking. 

He should be out there, fighting alongside his protector, the first person to really care about him since L’Manburg started years ago. He can’t let Phil die, not for him. 

Dream shakily forces his hands away from his head, ignoring the blood on his fingertips, and pushes himself up.

He can do this. He’s been in so many manhunts. He’s dueled some of the best fighters in the world. He fought the infamous Technoblade and nearly won. Dream is better than this. 

He hauls himself up off the ground on legs that can barely support him. But he pushes on anyway, stumbling towards the window by the door. 

And when he finally makes it there, he’s shocked at what he sees. 

The door closes behind Phil and he breathes a silent sigh of relief. Dream is inside. He’s safe for now. 

The pillagers are focused on him, he knows. He’s the only thing stopping them from barging into his house and raiding the place, burning it down behind them. He’s the only thing stopping them from taking Dream or simply slaughtering him where he stands. 

This is his home and Dream is his family. He’s not going to let them get past him. 

The leader blows his horn and the pillagers charge, axes and crossbows raised high, the rusting metal flashing in the light of the setting sun. 

Phil snaps his wings down, letting them stretch out by his sides, and holds himself low to the ground. The furious shouting as they grow closer fades away until all he can hear is his own steady breathing and heartbeat. 

An axe is raised high over his head and it swings down, about to split his skull in two. 

It never finds its mark. 

The pillager collapses to the ground with a bloody slash across his throat and doesn’t get up. Blood splatters on the grass and drips from Phil’s sword. He looks up at the rest of them with piercing blue eyes and for a moment they pause. 

Then they scream in fury, rushing in all at once. First blood has been shed, and they won’t let a challenge like that go. 

Another axe swings at his chest and he spins away from it only to retaliate with his own slash in turn. It narrowly misses the pillager’s throat but leaves a sizable gash in his cheek. 

Phil is forced to dodge another blow from the side. His wings puff up instinctually and the size of them pushes two more pillagers away, giving him enough space to run his sword through one of their hearts and rip it out just as quickly, already dodging again.

A crossbow bolt misses his head by inches and he goes lower, swinging a wing out to trip up another axe-wielder. He swiftly delivers a slash to the thigh that should make the pillager bleed out in seconds and then Phil is lurching away from another axe swinging up towards his chin. 

Someone makes a grab for him but Phil is too fast and grabs the pillager by the arm first, swinging him directly into the door of his house. His head slams against the wood and he slumps to the floor, unconscious. 

The ground rumbles beneath him and he crouches down and spreads his wings high above the pillager’s heads. With a powerful kick, he launches into the air just in time to avoid the snapping jaws rising up from the dirt below. 

With a quick glance at the crowd, he sees multiple crossbows aimed at his wings, but more concerning is the two monsters in robes hidden behind their leader, chanting under their breaths. Evokers. 

Phil tucks his wings in just as the crossbow bolts go flying and dives right under them. With a spinning slash, he tears through two vexes and takes down one evoker so fast he doesn’t have time to scream. The other sees him and tries to flee, summoning more snapping jaws and vexes to block his path. 

The ravager rears up and turns to face him, but Phil is already gone. He slashes through vexes and dodges the jaws like they’re nothing, his gaze set on one person in particular.

The evoker cowers behind his crossbow-wielding friends, summoning things as fast as he can, but not fast enough. 

He cuts through a crossbow, leaving its wielder defenseless and running for a new weapon. Another is pushed away just in time for the bolt to be fired into the ground instead, and the pillager receives a severed hand for his efforts. He falls to the dirt screaming.

The third backs away to give himself more space to fire, but his hands are shaking and the bolt would have missed even if Phil didn’t go through the trouble of rushing forward to slash right through his stomach. Blood and gore gushes from the wound and stains the grass red, but Phil doesn’t stick around to see him fall. 

The evoker’s back hits a tree, and Phil cuts down one more vex before stabbing his sword straight through his chest with so much force that it embeds itself in the tree as well. 

The evoker’s eyes go blank and his body goes limp as Phil tugs his sword free. There are no more snapping jaws or vexes after that. 

He must take too long to move because the blade of an axe grazes his shoulder and he’s thrown back into motion again. 

A crossbow is fired and Phil snags a pillager to block it like a shield. It hits his back and Phil finishes him off quickly. 

He never stops moving, constantly dodging and blocking and slashing at anything he can reach, so laser-focused that he doesn’t see the way he’s soaked in blood. His coat is stained so red that the green is almost unrecognizable. His feathers are soaked as well, flicking specks of blood with every movement.   
Someone bashes against his hip to try and send him into the sharp axe waiting for him, but he twists out of the way and slashes through both of their faces. 

An axe finds its way to his back, right between his wings, and normally he would be screaming at the pain of such a vital area getting hit. Instead, he backs up into it, flipping his sword so he can plunge it into the eye of the pillager behind him. He falls limp to the ground and the axe goes with him. Phil doesn’t feel a thing. The eye still stuck on his sword slips off to join the pile of gore and blood around him. 

The crossbow-wielders grow more desperate as the fight goes on and their numbers drop drastically. They fire more erratically, choosing quantity over quality. Phil uses this to his advantage and surrounds himself, forcing them to shoot their own men.

Someone manages to graze his side at the same time as someone else finally delivers a crossbow bolt to his leg. When he goes to slash at them, they’re already pulling back. His attacks are becoming predictable.

Gritting his teeth, Phil spreads his wings and goes up. There aren’t very many left, less than a dozen at least. 

His gaze falls on the leader, who’s watching all of this with a completely blank expression. His crossbow is held loosely in one hand. He hasn’t fired once for the entire fight, and despite the ravager he sits on thrashing around trying to get in the fight, he holds it back. Like a final boss waiting for all his minions to die before he can rush in and destroy his weakened enemy.

Phil dives right for him, intent on finishing this fight as quickly as possible.

A crossbow bolt grazes his cheek and another flies too close to his wing. His wings spread again, carrying him away from the defensive line that the others have formed between him and their leader. 

The ravager roars and the leader smiles. 

Before Phil even knows what’s happening, pain explodes from his left wing. He looks at the leader, who’s crossbow is now held up and aiming right at him, and then at the bolt that’s embedded itself between his feathers. 

There’s a horrible sinking feeling in his chest.

His injured wing flaps down and the agony that races through him makes his joints lock up.

He stalls out midair. He’s never stalled out before, not once in his life. 

Phil falls. 

He crashes to the ground with a cry. The only thing that saves him from broken bones is his limp wing breaking his fall. His vision goes white. 

An axe rises above him and he has just enough awareness to roll out of the way before it can crush his rib cage. Panting and shaking as his adrenaline high starts to collapse, he drives his sword into the ground and uses it to help him up, forcing himself to stand.

A pillager dares to try and attack him in that moment, and he uses his good wing to fling him away. He lands with a thud and an unpleasant cracking sound as his head hits a tree. He doesn’t get up.

Phil takes his sword and pulls it out of the ground, holding it by his side once again. His hand shakes and he tightens his hold to keep it steady. 

He locks eyes with the leader, his fiery glare meeting cold indifference. 

He won’t let them win this fight. He won’t let them get anywhere near his home, his family. Dream is depending on him. 

His son is depending on him. 

His son, who has only just started to open up after weeks of care and patience. His son, who likes picking sweet berries and listening to Chirp and swinging on the old swing. His son, who’s tentative smile lights up every room and who’s laugh Phil still hasn’t heard. 

His son.

Phil straightens himself, holding his head high in defiance. His hand is no longer shaking. 

The pillagers charge, and Phil rushes in to meet them head-on.

He ducks under an axe swing to stab the closest one, harshly twisting his sword before pulling it out again. A bolt hits his shoulder and stays there. Phil slashes down the next one, ignoring the painful dragging of his wing along the ground. An axe narrowly misses shattering his collarbone, leaving a deep gash there instead. Phil returns in kind, slashing into their leg so far his sword hits bone. The pillager collapses with a cut-off scream.

The ravager roars, its powerful feet stomping towards him, and Phil has just enough time to realize he’s left his back wide open and turns to see it’s horns pointed at him—

Pain like lightning jolts through his body as one of the ravager’s sharp horns pierces through his bad wing all the way to his shoulder and rears up, sending Phil flying.

He rolls to a stop on the blood-soaked ground in a tangle of red feathers. His sword skids away from his hand with a clang that never reaches his ears. 

For a moment, Phil can’t sense anything. All sound fades away and his vision goes black. He lies there in a daze, unaware of the stomping and agitated huffing of the ravager and the excited shouting of pillagers nearby. 

His first thought is that Dream is going to be really sad if he dies. His next is that he doesn’t want Dream to be sad. 

He wants Dream to be happy, like he was earlier when he tried on his new poncho, blushing in embarrassment but unable to stop the wide grin on his face, or when Phil had looked shocked when he learned that Dream has pierced ears and the kid had chuckled and tried in vain to hide his cheeky smile behind his hand. 

He doesn’t want to imagine his kid’s face scrunched up in fear and anguish, tears running down his cheeks. He’s seen so much of that already, and the sight never fails to grip Phil’s heart and squeeze painfully.

It’s that pain that forces him to open one of his eyes, the other stuck shut from the bloody puddle he’s lying in. 

He sees his house, the place he built with his own two hands so many years ago. It’s not the first house he’s built. Far from it actually.

He remembers when he used to find the most dangerous areas in the world and make his home there, completely cut off from anyone and anything else. He would level entire biomes and build up from the ashes, challenging himself with massive projects that would’ve taken anyone else years to complete. That was where he thrived.

And then he found Techno, the little piglin hybrid that followed him home one day like a stray cat. He was so small and scared, driven away by humans and piglins alike. Phil had found him annoying at first, always bothering him when he was trying to build. 

But the little guy had grown on him eventually, and Phil had found himself becoming very protective of him. He went out to build less and less often, more concerned with taking care of the kid who had named himself Technoblade. It was when Techno nearly died after following Phil into one of his mines that he was forced to make a decision. Either prioritize himself or the strange kid that Phil had come to see as something like a son.

He chose Techno.

So he had abandoned his house, all his builds, his years and years of work that he was so proud of. He took as much stuff as he could carry and brought Techno with him to somewhere safe.

And he had found this mountain, eventually. This place that Techno had seen while Phil and him were flying over it and decided he wanted to check it out. Phil built his house on that mountain, where it still stands today. 

He raised Techno here as his own son, and then after that Wilbur and Tommy as well. And now Dream. 

It’s not his first house, far from it, but it’s the one that means the most to him. And as he lies there watching the reflection of the full moon rising above the trees on the window, he looks past that reflection and sees Dream.

Dream, who’s watching Phil’s crumpled form being surrounded by pillagers with axes raised high, his eyes wide and terrified. His son, who has tears just beginning to fall. 

Phil’s fingers twitch. He doesn’t want his son to see this. He wants to see that smile again. He would do anything to hear Dream laugh just once. Until then, he can’t allow himself to die, not like this.

So Phil drags his arm closer and props himself up on his elbow, groaning painfully as his many wounds shift. He can barely move his other arm, his shoulder too thoroughly damaged, but he makes do with what he has. 

Painstakingly slow, he brings his legs up as well, managing to get into a crouch. He nearly slips against the grass slick with still-warm blood and gore.

He gasps and pants, exhausted. He wants to go to sleep and not wake up for a long time. He needs to give his body rest, but he can’t afford that right now. 

His sword is right in front of him, only a few steps away, but when he tries to stand up he quickly falls to his knees again. His vision blurs. 

An axe is raised above him, the wielder posed to strike at his exposed neck. 

He just needs to get his sword. It’s so close. But when he tries to reach for it he slips. He falls, like his wing is getting shot all over again. And he can’t get up again.

He turns, blearily looking up at his attacker through the tangled blonde hair that falls over his face. 

Phil only has one life left. There’s no respawning after this. He’s not going to wake up in his bed again.

The pillager grinning down at him will be his killer, finishing him off for good. 

His chest clenches with fear, but not for himself. He’s afraid for his family. He’s afraid for Tommy, who’s already in a bad place as it is, who might just break for good if he finds out that his dad is dead. He’s afraid for Wilbur, who can’t even remember anything that makes him sad, who will remain a clueless, lingering ghost long after everyone else has withered away. He’s afraid for Techno, who’s going to come through the portal any day now, who will stumble across the bloody battlefield that his lawn has become and see Phil among the corpses. 

He’s afraid for Dream, who’s going to witness it all.

He’s afraid for his sons and he doesn’t want to die, but he can’t force his body to move anymore. He has no energy left to spend. 

Phil takes one last breath and hopes his kids will be alright.

The axe swings down.

There’s a loud crunch and a spray of blood.


	13. Out Of The Frying Pan, Into The Fire

Phil isn’t dead.

No, he’s definitely very much alive. 

The pillager trying to kill him, however, is not.

He stands there, frozen in shock. His wide eyes stare at nothing, mouth open in a silent scream.

His axe falls from limp hands, landing somewhere beside Phil. His eyes roll up into his head and he collapses in a heap on Phil’s other side. Where the back of his neck used to be, now there’s only a gaping hole, his head halfway to being chopped completely off. His spine has been severed in two, shards of bone poking out of the gruesome fatal wound. 

Above him stands his killer, Phil’s savior. 

Above him stands Dream, Phil’s sword held in his steady hand even as the rest of his body trembles. He’s still holding the sword up where he had slashed the pillager’s neck open, staring at it with just as much shock as the pillager had. He looks so scared, tears streaming down his face, and yet his hand doesn’t shake at all.

He blinks and looks down at Phil, and there’s a moment where their eyes lock. Fearful green meets tired blue. Phil’s lips twitch up into a smile, and Dream’s expression softens. Phil desperately wants to reach out and hug his boy. 

His fingers twitch and Dream jolts, realization washing over him. He scrambles to reach into the pocket of his hoodie, now splattered in red, and pulls out a glass bottle. A reddish liquid swirls inside it, and before Phil can begin to comprehend what kind of potion it might be Dream is already crushing it in his free hand, letting its contents spill over Phil. 

Almost instantly he feels a sudden burst of energy flow through him. He can feel a burning sensation as his wounds begin to stitch themselves back together and the pain leaves him completely. 

It doesn’t fix him entirely, the small amount of potion only enough to keep him from bleeding out, but it’s enough. Phil finds the strength to push himself up once again. 

A pillager dares to fire a bolt at them, missing them both as it flies between them, and Dream flinches back. Phil stumbles to his feet at the same time that Dream grips his sword and rushes at the nearest pillager. 

He doesn’t see the guy go down, but when he turns he finds Dream holding his own against the four pillagers that are left. There’s an axe-wielder and three with crossbows, plus the leader and the ravager, which paces back and forth just far enough out of Dream’s range that the leader can’t get hit while he still has men to distract from his presence. 

Another pillager goes down, and then it’s just the ones with crossbows. Dream leaps in between them, moving around just quick enough that they don’t want to fire with the threat of hitting one of their own. Not with so few of them left. 

Another goes down, and Phil lurches towards them. He probably looks like a walking corpse, absolutely soaked in blood and covered in injuries, his clothes torn and both of his wings dragging on the ground. He clutches at his shoulder, his other arm completely limp. 

His sights are set for Dream. His son who’s throwing himself into such a dangerous situation that could easily get him killed. He hasn’t fought anything or held a weapon in months, and he’s still so skinny that he has practically no muscle to speak of. He’s running purely on experience and instinct, the fast reflexes that would take years to fade away. He holds Phil’s sword in two hands now, trying to put more force into his blows. Even then, it’s not much, but he makes do.

Another pillager falls, and the last one quickly joins the rest after that. And Dream stands there breathing heavily, his exhales coming out as wheezes. He stands there victorious, and when he glances up at Phil there’s something like pride in his eyes.

The ravager roars.

A crossbow bolt cuts through the air and nearly goes right through Dream’s hand but luckily grazes it instead. He drops the sword with a strangled noise, clutching his hand to his chest. 

The beast charges. 

Phil sees it coming as if in slow motion, his heart dropping into his stomach. He stumbles forward, but he knows there’s nothing he can do. 

“Dream—!”

Dream isn’t fast enough to move out of the way, and he’s knocked to the ground with an audible crack. The beast presses him into the dirt, horns digging in on either side of his head, and Dream cries out. He thrashes around, desperately trying to escape. His fists beat against the beast’s head, but being so physically weak makes his efforts useless against something as strong as a ravager. 

Phil stumbles closer, frantically wracking his brain for a way to get them out of this. 

The ravager presses down harder and Dream gives a cut-off scream as his ribs crack and break from the force. He sobs, resistance bleeding out of him with every passing second. 

The leader leans forward on the beast, taunting them both with a wicked grin. 

Dream’s gaze finds Phil’s, and there’s so much raw pain and sadness there that his vision whites out. 

He never wants to see an expression like that again. Dream doesn’t deserve this. 

Not his boy. 

Phil doesn’t think. It’s pure protective instinct, a burning desire to keep Dream safe, that drives him to snatch the bloody crossbow off the ground. 

It’s already loaded, the dead pillager holding it unable to get a shot off with how quickly he was killed. 

Phil fires.

The bolt finds its mark. 

The leader slumps to the side, sliding right off the ravager’s back to land in the pile of corpses there. The crossbow bolt sticks out of the side of his head, and his expression is almost comically surprised. 

The ravager rears up with a roar, releasing a breathless Dream from its hold in favor of charging at Phil. 

He rushes forward with the little speed he has to meet it, and just as he’s about to get impaled, he twists to the side. The beast flies past him, and Phil grabs his sword from the ground. It’s slick with blood and difficult to grip properly. 

The ravager turns right around to charge at him again, swinging its head back and forth. It’s not going to let him dodge this time. 

Phil takes his sword and points it towards the ground, raising it up as high as he can. The ravager crashes into him, one horn slipping under his arm to skewer his wing and the other impaling him right below the ribs. 

A choked sound leaves his throat as blood pools in his mouth. He grips his sword tighter, and with the last of his strength he stabs down. 

The blade goes through the beast’s skull, going so far that the hilt meets its head and the end of the blade comes out below its jaw. 

The ravager lets out a horrible screech that seems to stretch on forever, and then it goes completely still. 

It’s horns slip free from Phil’s body as it collapses, and then he’s going down with it. 

Even as waves of agony flow through his body, Phil doesn’t feel himself land. One moment he’s standing, and the next he’s not. 

Silence falls in the clearing. No shouting or roaring or crossbows being fired. No birds singing or crickets chirping or trees rustling. 

The world falls quiet, and Phil knows they won. 

He opens his good eye, not realizing he closed it in the first place. The light of the full moon shines down on the mountain, casting everything in an otherworldly glow. 

The little clearing in front of his house has become the aftermath of a war zone. Dozens of bodies litter the area, weapons strewn about. There’s so much red. It stains the trees and his clothes and just about every inch of grass he can see. 

And in the middle of it all is a flash of green. 

Dream lies there, hands pressed to his chest as he tries to breathe, weakly kicking his legs in pain. He must have a few broken ribs, and if Phil was in good enough shape to move he would be rushing to his boy’s side to help him. 

But he’s not in good shape and he can’t move. The potion healed him a small bit and gave him enough energy to end the fight, but now he’s really spent. He can barely keep his eye open let alone do anything else.

Dream rolls onto his side and curls into himself, eyes squeezed closed and jaw tightly clamped shut. He takes a few deep breaths and then opens his eyes. 

Of course the first thing he looks at is Phil. 

And Phil must black out at some point, because when he’s forcing his eye open again Dream is suddenly stumbling towards him, one hand holding his chest. And then he’s falling to his knees by Phil’s side. 

“‘M s-sorry,” he rasps. 

Phil would ask what he’s saying sorry for, but when he opens his mouth the only thing that comes out is a weak whine and a trail of blood. 

He hasn’t felt so weak in a long time. He might’ve killed the pillagers, but at this rate the blood loss is going to finish him off instead. 

Dream must realize how little time he has, because he jolts. He reaches for Phil’s arm and pulls him up. 

Phil blacks out for that too thankfully, although once Dream has got them both standing with Phil’s arm around his shoulders, he can’t help the long groan that his jostled injuries pull from him. 

And then they’re walking towards the house, and Phil does his best to walk and help Dream out but it barely makes a difference. Dream struggles to hold him up, his broken ribs and muscle atrophy probably screaming at him to stop. Phil can feel him trembling with the force of it, his legs threatening to collapse and send them both tumbling. 

But they manage to make it to the house and Dream hauls him up the porch steps and through the open door. Phil is dropped on the couch and he has just enough awareness to internally lament about how long it’s going to take to get all this blood off the cushions later. 

“What the fuck is this?!” someone screeches from outside. 

Just before Phil surrenders himself to sleep, he thinks about how glad he is that Tommy finally decided to visit.


	14. Dust To Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not super happy with how this chapter turned out but idk how to make it better so here you go. There’s a small chance I’ll go back and rewrite this scene but probably not. 
> 
> In other news, Tommy is a bit of an ass in this chapter but don’t worry, I’m not making him into an antagonist. I’ve got big plans for Tommy in the next few chapters.  
> 💜

Dream freezes. 

He knows that voice. There’s no mistaking it. 

Tommy is here. 

Instantly, he’s thrown into a spiraling mess of memories that threaten to swallow him whole. 

He remembers the prison. 

When George and Sapnap were dragging him in there, he had seen the small crowd that formed to see him get taken away. He saw people that he considered friends watching on in silence, none of them caring enough about him to stop what was happening. 

He saw Bad smiling at him. The egg had just started to take hold of his mind, and Dream had been trying to find a way to stop the infection but he had so much on his plate constantly. So many wars and conflicts and grudges that needed to be resolved that he just never had time. Bad watched him go without a care in the world. 

He saw Puffy, watching on with wide eyes that pleaded for them to stop, to bring Dream back. And yet she never went to stop them herself. He could see the conflict in her expression. He hadn’t talked to her in so long and she was starting to believe all the horrible things people said about him. She didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t fight for him to stay. 

And he saw Tommy. Tommy, who was such a trouble-maker and was constantly causing so many conflicts. Tommy, who added so much stress to Dream’s already huge plate of things to handle every day. Tommy, who was supposed to be in exile at the time, but was standing right next to Tubbo like he belonged there (and he did belong there, even if Dream didn’t want him to because those two together is just asking for trouble). 

Tommy, who stood at the front of the crowd with a big grin on his face, and he cheered. Tommy, who couldn’t see his face behind the mask but locked eyes with him anyway and shouted out that the green tyrant was finally going to get what he deserved.

Tommy, who Dream manipulated and drove away at every turn. Dream, who stole his discs and encouraged Wilbur’s spiral into madness for his own gain. 

Since the beginning, Tommy and Dream have been on opposite sides. 

And now Tommy is here.

Dream turns, and when he looks out the open door of Phil’s house, he sees them.

Tommy is standing on the other side of the clearing, a scattering of dead bodies between them. He’s looking down at the carnage around the house in shock. There’s a trident in one hand, and Dream can’t help but think Tommy must’ve cleaned himself up since Logstedshire because his clothes are no longer torn and dirty and he looks like he’s actually been eating.

Dream feels a stab of guilt and shame in his gut. He’s the reason Tommy looked so horrible in the first place. He was the reason Tommy got exiled and never had enough time or energy to get food and resources because Dream never let him. 

And floating around just behind Tommy, looking around with an innocent curiosity despite the gruesome scene, is Ghostbur. In the light of the moon, he seems to glow in the dark with a kind of ghostly aura that for most people would be unsettling. Behind him trails a blue sheep led by a simple rope lead, idly munching on the grass. 

And when Tommy rips his gaze away from the blood and gore on the ground, almost immediately his eyes find Dream, and he freezes as well.

For a moment, everything is still and silent. 

Tommy glances at Phil, unconscious on the couch and covered in blood, barely breathing. Then he looks at Dream, standing over Phil with much less blood on his own clothes. 

A range of emotions flash across his face. Shock, fear, disgust. There’s realization there too, as he searches Dream’s unmasked face and almost instantly knows it’s him even though he’s never seen Dream’s face before now. 

And then he finally settles on anger, his fist tightening around the trident. 

“You,” he says, his tone low and full of fury. 

Dream gasps and flinches back, almost falling over the table in his haste to back up as Tommy stomps towards him. 

He trudges through pools of blood and completely ignores the bodies in his path, his sights set on Dream and Dream alone. Ghostbur happily floats behind him, waving at Dream so innocently. 

But Dream doesn’t notice. He sees Tommy’s anger and all he can think of is being dragged back to the prison.

Logically he knows that Sapnap and George must be there already, that they probably wouldn’t let him get locked in a second time. They said they didn’t want to put him back, that they were sorry. 

But in the moment, with his probably broken ribs making it hard to breathe and the panic gripping his throat making it even harder, he’s not thinking logically. 

His back hits a wall and his vision goes hazy as pain jolts through his body. He sees the blurry figure of Tommy stepping over the threshold into the house and he wants to run away so badly. The stairs are right there, he could get to his room easily. But his vision clears and he sees Tommy’s fury radiating from his entire body and Dream can’t move. 

Their positions now used to be reversed not very long ago. With Tommy in exile and Dream controlling every aspect of his life. He hadn’t failed to notice the fear and tension in the boy whenever he came to visit, and he knew it was wrong but at the time he had gotten a sick kind of satisfaction from finally being in control of such a chaotic person. Tommy had caused so many problems, and to see him like that was almost refreshing, a break from all the stress of everything else. 

He knew it was wrong. He saw the looks he kept getting, the distance that grew between him and his friends, the terror on Tommy’s face every time he brought out the tnt. He knew and he never cared to change. 

And now Dream is the terrified one. Tommy is the one in control this time. Karma at its finest. 

Tommy looks to Phil, who’s splayed out on the couch haphazardly, breathing shallowly, and then to Dream, who’s backed into a corner, trembling and wanting to disappear more than anything. He sees both of them, and he makes an assumption. 

“What the hell did you do to my dad?”

Dream flinches, trying to make himself small. 

He wants to say that he didn’t do anything, that he helped Phil fight the pillagers, but there’s a little voice in the back of his head that tells him otherwise. Maybe he is the reason Phil is hurt. Not directly, he would never intentionally hurt Phil, but he’s gotten people hurt in other ways before. Everywhere Dream goes, he brings misery and death with him, constantly manipulating people to do what he wants. 

Who’s to say he hasn’t manipulated Phil too? Maybe this entire time he’s just been tricking Phil, Techno, Sapnap, and George into thinking they care about him when clearly he doesn’t deserve it after everything he’s done. Maybe Tommy is right and this entire situation is Dream’s fault. 

Is it his fault? Is he cursed to destroy every good relationship he comes across no matter what he does? 

Does anyone really love him? 

“What did you do?!” Tommy yells. 

Dream flinches, presses himself as far into the wall as he can despite the white hot agony radiating from his chest. He brings his arms up protectively over his head, covering part of his face. 

Some childish part of him tells him to cover his face entirely, to block out the world around him in hopes that everything will go away when he’s not looking. Another, more fearful part tells him to search for an exit, watch for a weapon, be ready to dodge if someone attacks. These two instincts war with each other in his mind, and he feels an unpleasant tingling like electricity run through him the more he thinks about it. 

Tommy takes a threatening step towards him. 

Dream grips his hair and tugs, a whine slipping past his throat. 

“‘M sorry. I-I’m s-sorry. S-sorry.” He mindlessly repeats apologies over and over again, his voice breaking more with every word. Tears well up in his eyes. 

Tommy gives him a look somewhere between confusion and disgust. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Tommy takes another step and Dream abruptly cuts off his rambling with a whimper, shaking. 

Tommy laughs incredulously, just once at first and then a lot. “Really, Dream? This is all an act, isn’t it? You’re just trying to trick me again.”

Dream can barely even hear what Tommy is saying anymore. He feels lightheaded, like he can’t pull in enough air, like he could collapse at any second. 

With Sapnap and George, he was terrified and ran away from them, trying to get as far away as possible. But with Tommy, it’s like he’s trapped in place, slowly suffocating in his own fear. No matter how much he wills himself to move, he just can’t. 

Too many things are swirling around in his head. So many emotions pulling him in every direction at once. 

He wants to run away. He wants to help Phil. He wants to tell Tommy that he’s sorry for everything he did. 

His breathing speeds up, his heart racing. 

“Oh, maybe he just needs some blue! Would you like some blue, Dream?” 

Wilbur floats somewhere to Tommy’s left and all Dream can see is that sadistic smile, tons and tons of tnt destroying everything at the simple push of a button—

It’s all his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault—

“Jeez, you’re pathetic. You can’t seriously think I’m going to fall for this.”

He sees the flash of blue from Tommy’s trident and he remembers the time he let Tommy borrow his own trident. He had made it seem like he was being friendly, but it was just another ploy to fool Tommy into thinking they were friends as a way to keep him docile. Even if he still thinks about that little moment fondly, watching the kid fly around with a big smile on his face, it doesn’t matter. 

Tommy is never going to trust him again. No matter how genuine Dream is, Tommy is never going to believe a word he says. 

Dream broke Tommy’s trust. He broke and stole everything Tommy had. 

Everything he touches turns to dust. 

Tears stream down his face but he doesn’t notice because he can’t breathe, Tommy’s piercing glare stealing all the air from his lungs. 

He hates being there in that moment and yet he feels like he deserves it. He wants to run and yet he can’t. Panic is overflowing inside him and yet everything is starting to go numb. There’s so many conflicting emotions that he can barely comprehend.

He wants to be held and comforted. He wants to feel safe and happy again. 

He wants Phil to wrap him in his wings and tell him everything is alright even if it isn’t. 

He wants his dad. 

Tommy practically snarls, gripping his trident like he’s about to strike—

A hand lands on Tommy’s shoulder and he freezes, quickly whipping his head to the side. 

There stands Phil. He’s barely standing, hunched over and swaying dangerously. He grips Tommy’s shoulder like it’s the only thing keeping him up, and with the way his one good eye is slightly glazed over and filled with so much exhaustion, it probably is. 

“Tommy,” Phil rasps, barely audible. “It’s rude to… talk to guests like that… Be nice…”

Phil coughs and his entire body shudders, nearly falling on Tommy as he sways a bit too far. 

Jolting into action, Tommy quickly drops his trident on the floor and turns to gently push Phil back onto the couch, who flops onto it with a loud and painful-sounding wheeze. 

“What the hell are you doing, old man?! Sit down before you break a hip or something!”

Phil lets the back of his head hit the top of the couch. His delirious chuckles soon turn into more coughing. He goes limp on the couch like before, except this time he’s conscious, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the pain. 

Tommy stands back, looking over Phil with wide eyes. Blood coats his hands, the small touch to Phil’s shoulders enough to turn them red. 

“Fuckin’ hell…” he murmurs. He casts one last glance at Dream, who has only slightly uncurled himself after seeing Phil up and talking, and the look on his face tells Dream that their talk is far from over. Then he’s rushing to the kitchen to grab supplies. 

Dream is left there wondering. 

He wonders if Phil will be okay. He wonders how long it’s going to take for Techno to get back. He wonders how long Tommy is going to stay. 

He wonders how long it’ll take before Tommy decides he’s had enough of Dream and kicks him out or kills him or throws him back in the prison—

Ghostbur idly floats around the room, just as oblivious to the chaos in the house as his sheep. Dream ribs grind against each other and he can’t find it in himself to care about fixing them. 

He wonders how long it’ll take before everything here turns to dust just like all the other good things he’s destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who’s interested, I just created a Twitter account @NightFracturer and I’ll be happy to talk to you guys or answer any questions you might have.   
> 💜


	15. Me? A Sadist? No Way

Phil drifts somewhere between consciousness and   
sleep. It’s not a very nice feeling, not with so much pain radiating through him. He feels a bit nauseous, and when he opens his eye to gaze up at the ceiling it looks like everything is spinning. 

He takes a particularly deep breath and hisses as the deep gash below his ribs moves. He’s never fighting a ravager again, that’s for sure. 

And his wings. Oh, his precious wings. 

Both of them are out of commission. He’s pretty sure the left one is broken somewhere, and there’s still a crossbow bolt lodged right under the joint. Every tiny movement there feels like lightning. 

With this much damage, is he even going to be able to fly again? And if so, how long until they heal? Months? Years? 

The idea of being stuck on the ground terrifies him. He can’t imagine living a truly fulfilling life without being able to fly. 

He blinks and suddenly there’s a face in front of his. It takes a few more blinks before Phil can see them clearly. 

“Hey, Phil!” Wilbur says cheerfully, smiling down at him. 

For a few moments Phil contemplates if he’s dead and already in the afterlife, and then he remembers that Wil is a ghost now. Somehow that’s even worse than being dead. 

He’s only talked to Ghostbur a handful of times, always trying to avoid him. Because every time he looks at Ghostbur all he can see is the deranged smile on his son’s face as he begged Phil to kill him. He sees the sword he ran through his son’s chest, the light draining from his eyes as blood streamed down his chin. 

He sees Wil’s head propped up on his lap, smiling up at him so innocently, something like peace in his expression as he took his final breath—

Ghostbur is so similar to the young Wilbur he used to know, so happy and carefree. 

Except Wil had never been carefree. He had near constant nightmares, he had anger and control issues, and he often ignored his problems in favor of keeping up that happy persona. Phil had tried his best to help his kid, but with two other kids that were just as needy he knew Wil often felt ignored. Phil couldn’t be everywhere at once no matter how hard he tried, and nobody else was there to help him at the time. 

He wasn’t surprised when Wil went insane. He saw it coming from miles away. 

No, he wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t dull the agony he felt that day when he held his son’s body in his arms. It only hurts that much more seeing Wil like this. 

Ghostbur still remembers some things, but it’s all twisted. He remembers the happy things, and yet most of his childhood is a blur. He knows that Phil killed him and yet Wil still smiles at him like nothing ever happened. 

Phil knows he’s been avoiding Ghostbur. He’s not proud of that fact, but every time he sees those eyes filled with such innocence it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. 

And now Ghostbur is here in his house and Phil is bleeding out on the couch. He’s not entirely sure why his dead son is here. He vaguely remembers stopping Tommy from doing something and seeing Dream huddled in a corner not too long ago, but the memory is already becoming hazy. 

He thinks ruefully that if Techno were to show up then his entire family would be there, like a little reunion. It sucks that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it, not when everything hurts so much and he can barely move. 

“Out of the way idiot.”

Wilbur floats up and away from the couch. Phil idly watches him go. Things are starting to get blurry again, and his son shows up as a big yellow blur. 

Something is pressed against the deep gash under his ribs and Phil lets out a long groan, tensing up. He can’t move his entire left arm and so his right hand grips the cushions in a death grip. 

“You’re such a drama queen,” someone says from nearby, and Phil can barely make out the wavering of their voice. 

It takes him a second to open his eye again, not having realized he closed it in the first place. It’s only when he rolls his head to the side to see what’s happening that he realizes it’s Tommy in front of him. 

He’s pressing a cloth to Phil’s wound, glaring down at the blood soaking through with his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands are shaking. It’s barely noticeable, but even with the blood loss making everything spin, Phil can see it clearly. 

He gets the sudden urge to hug his son close and never let go. He shouldn’t have to do this for Phil. He’s seen enough blood to last a lifetime already. 

He presses down harder and Phil sucks in a breath past gritted teeth, a shudder running up his spine. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says under his breath, so quietly Phil almost doesn’t hear it. 

It’s an eternity before Tommy takes the cloth away. It used to be a pastel blue, but now the entire thing is a deep red. Then he reaches for Phil’s torn shirt and tears it open further. 

Phil has just enough time to mourn one of his favorite shirts before Tommy takes another cloth damp with water and, with a little hesitation and a grimace, begins clearing away the blood and grime. 

Phil’s vision whites out. 

He comes to a few seconds later to find his entire body tense and shaking. His jaw aches from how hard he’s clamped it shut, and the fingers gripping the cushions hurt just as much. 

Tommy tends to his wounds and it all passes as a vague blur to Phil. He feels the pain as it comes and goes but not much else. 

He sees flashes of Tommy and Wilbur, and he keeps wondering where Dream is. He’s worried for his son (and at this point there really is no denying that Dream is his son), and with Tommy here he’s more worried than usual. 

Is Dream being tended to? Phil remembers him getting hurt. Ravagers hit hard, and even if his memory is a bit hazy he can still remember the scream Dream let out when the beast crashed into him. Tommy is helping Phil but who is helping Dream?

He wonders why his youngest son is here in the first place. Not that Phil isn’t glad to see him, but it’s a little odd that he would show up now of all times. Did something happen? It’s not unusual for Tommy to be spontaneous, but to travel all the way to Phil’s house? Something must have driven him here. 

Phil’s awareness abruptly snaps back to the present when the quiet house suddenly erupts into yelling. 

“Get the hell away from me or I swear on Phil’s wings I’ll kill you right now!”

There’s a whimper from somewhere to Phil’s right, and when he glances in that direction he finds Dream standing there. 

He’s hunched over and holding his shaking arms in front of him protectively. He flinches when Tommy takes a step towards him and looks like he would rather be anywhere else in the world. Phil sees his worried eyes glance over to him and he wants nothing more than to hold his son in his arms and assure him that everything will be okay, but the most he can do is twitch his fingers and even that’s a stretch. 

Dream’s gaze flickers back to Tommy and then quickly looks down at the ground submissively. Somehow he manages to make himself look even smaller. 

He mumbles something under his breath. 

Tommy scowls. “What was that?” His hand twitches towards the trident on the ground. 

Dream flinches again, his bleeding hand coming up to clutch at his ruined hoodie. 

“H-his wings a-a-and bac-ck.”

Tommy scoffs but takes a step back and Dream relaxes just a fraction. 

“What about them?” he asks tersely, crossing his arms.

And Dream looks back at Phil for a moment. He can see the urge to help in his eyes, but also so much fear and sadness. Phil wants to wrap the boy in his wings so badly it hurts, more than the many wounds littering his body. 

He wishes he could take Dream’s fear and Tommy’s anger and make them disappear. He wants them to get along and be happy. 

It’s such an unrealistic wish. Dream and Tommy have never really gotten long, even before L’Manburg was created. Even without the differences in allegiances and morals, they’re so different. 

Dream is secretive, elusive, an enigma even to his closest friends. Tommy is loud, open about his opinions, and practically an open book to anyone who talks to him for more than a few minutes. Dream enjoys the quiet comfort of nature while Tommy prefers being with his friends and family. Dream fears attachments while Tommy creates new attachments at any given opportunity. 

And yet, when Phil really thinks about it, they’re also very similar. They’re both fiercely loyal to the people they care about, although they might show it differently. Despite how he may seem to most people, Tommy is far more intelligent than he lets on and is probably just as sharp as Dream. They’ve both been leaders before, and even if they have a knack for leadership, they’re both still young boys in need of a guiding hand.

They’ve both made mistakes. They’ve both hurt people. But they both regret their actions. They have good intentions at heart. 

Phil thinks that maybe they could get along. Not now, not for a long time, but maybe one day. He can only hope.

“What do you mean he’s still bleeding?!” 

Phil is shaken out of his thoughts. He didn’t realize he was zoning out. Exhaustion weights on him like a thick blanket, and he really wants to drift off to sleep but there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that’s a very bad idea. 

Tommy grabs him and leans him forward. Phil shudders as the half-dried blood on his back unsticks from the couch. He vaguely remembers getting hurt there earlier.

Tommy curses and moves Phil a bit awkwardly so he can access his back and repeat the same process he’s used on every other wound. Luckily Phil doesn’t really feel it anymore. The way he’s turned means he can see Dream easier.

The kid is watching him and Tommy worriedly. He leans forward a few times like he’s about to help, but then he glances at Tommy and stops himself. 

Phil can feel himself zoning out this time. It’s an almost pleasant numb feeling that gives him the sensation of drifting again. He doesn’t remember Tommy giving him any pain relief, so the fact that he can’t feel much of anything is a little worrying, but at least he doesn’t have to deal with everything hurting so much. 

He doesn’t regret fighting the pillagers, but did there really have to be so many of them? It was a bit excessive even for them. Maybe they built a new outpost nearby that Phil doesn’t know about. If so then he’ll have to tear it down soon or they’re just going to keep coming. Or maybe they won’t. He did kill a pretty large number of them, so there might not be any left. 

He’s more worried about the evokers. He’s never seen more than one evoker in a raid before, so the fact that there were two is probably important. He’s positive that there aren’t any woodland mansions around for many miles, but they must’ve come from somewhere. 

Jeez, all this worrying probably isn’t good for him. He’s glad Techno will be back soon. Techno is good at solving problems, he always has been. Phil is sure he’d be willing to help out with—

Tommy grabs the bolt in his wing and rips it out without warning. 

Phil’s entire body locks up and he screams. 

He doesn’t see the way Dream and Tommy both jump back or the panic clearly written on their faces. 

Phil’s wings twitch and spasm on their own, sending lightning racing down his spine. Bloody feathers fall to the floor. 

Tommy quickly snaps out of his shock and pounces on Phil’s flailing wing. It hurts like nothing Phil has ever felt before, and he can’t help the way he cries out and tries to twist away from the grip. 

But Tommy holds firm. He’s not exactly a small kid, and unlike Dream he’s still strong even after his exile. It doesn’t surprise him that Tommy is able to hold him down. 

What does surprise him is the way Dream jolts forward and grabs Phil’s shoulders. Phil latches onto him instinctively, pressing his head to Dream’s chest. 

Dream flinches with a pained gasp that goes unnoticed by Phil, but he doesn’t let go. 

The position is more than familiar to the both of them, except this time it’s reversed. Instead of Phil comforting a hurt Dream, now Dream is the one comforting him. 

Even when Phil grips his arm hard enough to bruise, and when Tommy yells at him to get away, he doesn’t let go. 

Tommy growls and ignores Dream for now in favor of wrestling Phil’s wings down. 

“Will you—hold still for two seconds?!”

He manages to fold in Phil’s right wing, but when he can’t seem to get a good grip on the left one he reaches for a handful of primary feathers and pulls. 

Everything goes black after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry if time between updates gets longer, I’ve been going through a lot lately and I don’t have a ton of time anymore. I still want to keep writing because I love this fic and seeing all of you guys enjoying it makes me really happy. 
> 
> Also, sorry not sorry for the Philza angst. If it helps, the next few chapters probably aren’t going to be from Phil’s POV (although that probably sounds really ominous). I swear I’m not going to kill him, he’s just going to be incapacitated for a bit. Don’t worry, everything is totally fine. :)  
> 💜


	16. Dreaming

Dream is walking through L’Manburg. 

It’s a nice place, despite what it’s existence implies. 

That he failed, he lost the war and there’s no way anything is going to go back to the way it was—

The flowers are pretty. He sees them scattered around near paths and houses. They’re easy to miss, but Dream always enjoys seeing them. He can tell how well cared for they are. 

And oh how easy it is to take care of a bunch of plants, but try and keep everyone in a nation safe and happy and all you get is chaos and ruin—

The axe on his back is heavy. It’s made of pure netherite and maxed out with enchantments, the only weapon of its kind, but there’s more to its weight than that. It’s a symbol, and one with such a heavy burden sometimes it feels like it’s slowly crushing him to death. 

He is the leader of the Greater SMP. The land that L’Manburg occupies belongs (or belonged) to him. His axe is a grim reminder of the title he holds, the destruction he brings, the borrowed time the people of L’Manburg are living on. 

It makes him feel powerful, and yet no matter how comfortable he gets with it, it never stops weighing on him. Sometimes it feels like nothing more than a ball and chain, dragging him down down down—

There’s been some remodeling going on recently. Everything looks slightly newer than before. It’s starting to look like a place that people would actually want to visit. The water sloshing under the wooden path he steps onto is another reminder, one that he wants to forget but knows he can’t. 

Entire chunks of land destroyed, explosions shaking the ground, the push of a button—

Dream shakes his head to rid himself of his unwanted thoughts. No use thinking of things that mean nothing now. That’s all in the past, and he has to start planning for the future. 

With a deep breath, he makes his way back towards the Prime Path. He’s been considering visiting Tommy’s old house. His progress with Tommy has been going well so far, and he’s been considering giving the kid a kind of reward for his good behavior. 

The wind whips past him. It ruffles up his hair and tries to pull his hood down. He can’t feel it past the mask over his face. 

It’s not quite as heavy as his axe. His mask is a part of him, just as natural as a comfortable piece of clothing. And yet lately it’s like it’s started to mean something else. 

Sometimes he’ll accidentally sneak up on someone and as soon as they see his mask their first instinct is to defend themselves. Whenever he visits Tommy, the kid sees his mask and his face falls. Dream gets wary and defensive looks now, even from people he’s known for a long time. 

His mask is something to be feared, an omen of death and despair. This had worked in his favor at first, but now…

Dream has worn a mask for as long as he can remember. He’s not entirely sure why he started wearing it in the first place, it was so long ago he doesn’t remember, but it’s always provided a sense of comfort and security. It’s his safe space, his little bubble of peace in the midst of chaos. 

To take off his mask is to remove that sense of peace. It’s like leaping into a great ocean and letting the current rip him apart. Very few people have ever seen his face. Not even George knows what he looks like, and after so long Sapnap has probably completely forgotten. 

He’s not sure when the safety of his mask began to change. Over time, it’s become something like a shield from not just the world around him but the people too. Where before he had shown his emotions freely, now he hides them behind that smiley face. 

He’s learned to control his body language in a way that leaves his thoughts a mystery. With sharp-minded people like Schlatt and Wilbur roaming around, it’s become a necessity. Emotions can be used against him. It can get him or others killed. 

His mask used to be a part of him, but now it’s feeling more and more like a way to hide from everything, a cheap disguise that allows him to distance himself from the reality of it all. 

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s becoming more and more difficult to pick up that mask and slip it on, but the idea of facing the world without it terrifies him enough to force his hand. 

It’s getting more and more difficult to wake up in the morning. 

Dream has to shake himself out of his thoughts again. He must be getting tired, he keeps zoning out. He’s not sure when the last time he slept was, but it must’ve been a while. Maybe a day? Two? It doesn’t matter anyway. No matter how long he sleeps, he never feels well rested. 

He should at least try to find a place to sleep though. Maybe Punz will let him steal a few hours on his bed. If not then he could find a bed in one of the many abandoned buildings around L’Manburg. He’s pretty sure Phil moved out permanently after the whole house arrest thing, although his house is often broken into and looted now so that option is off the table. So is Tommy’s house. 

He would go to George or Sapnap, but after he dethroned George, Dream hasn’t been on the best of terms with them lately. Sam would normally be his next option, but he’s off taking a much-needed break from building the prison and Dream would feel bad sleeping in his bed without asking permission first (even if he knows the answer will always be yes). 

Speaking of the prison, Dream can see it now. It’s a huge, imposing thing in the distance that makes him shiver in anticipation just looking at it. He can’t wait to see it finished. 

And there’s a little voice in the back of his head that tells him he shouldn’t be excited to see a prison, but it’s quickly pushed away. Why wouldn’t he be excited? A lot of hard work and planning went into its creation, and even if Sam is the one actually building it, Dream feels a sense of pride for it. 

“Dream.”

Surprised, Dream is jolted out of his reverie and turns his head to see George and Sapnap standing before him. He notes that they both have serious expressions and instantly he becomes wary of their intentions. 

It’s an instinctual reaction now, after everything. Every person he talks to is a potential killer or spy. His best friends have done things behind his back before, so to assume they wouldn’t again is foolish. 

But something is different about them this time. They’re both wearing full netherite armor, and that by itself wouldn’t be unusual if not for the way they keep their helmets on too. They always take their helmets off when they’re just wandering around or talking with friends, and the fact that they’re not off now makes Dream’s hand itch for his axe. 

George steps forward and Dream zeroes in on him, turning to fully face him. 

“Yes, Georgie?” 

His voice is light and pleasant, but they both hear the tension in his tone. The nickname is only icing on the cake. He only calls George that when they’re having fun and he’s full of energy. Never like this, standing in front of each other like they’re about to fight. 

It’s a test, one of the many tests that Dream has created for each person he knows. It’s a test to get a better sense of George’s mood, why he’s here in full armor looking so grim. 

He has so many tests, each one more elaborate than the last. It’s become so easy to fall into the pattern of distrust and a need for control. He has to know everything about everyone or else they might come and stab him in the back. 

George shakes his head solemnly and Dream tilts his own head to the side a bit. 

“You’re not yourself, Dream.”

He scoffs internally. George isn’t the first person to give him this lecture, others have tried before him and failed. 

Of course Dream knows he’s changed. They all have. Nothing has been the same after L’Manburg. Sides have been chosen, friendships destroyed, lives ruined. He doesn’t understand why everyone keeps insisting that he’s the one who isn’t acting like himself when everyone else has changed just as much. 

He wants to say all this and more, but something about the way George is looking at him stops him.

“I’m fine,” he says instead. 

George sighs and reaches up to pull his goggles down over his eyes. This must be serious then. 

Dream’s hand twitches, wanting to grab his axe. It feels like something is about to happen, and he doesn’t want to be caught up in it. 

“You’re under arrest, Dream.”

Wait, what?

Dream almost bursts out laughing at the absurdity of that statement. He can’t be serious.

Under arrest? What is that even supposed to mean? Is George all of the sudden trying to play cop? Is this some kind of game? 

But George’s expression doesn’t crack. He puts a hand on the sword fastened to his hip and tenses like he’s preparing for a fight. 

All the red flags he’s seeing are screaming at him to reach for his axe and defend himself. But this is George. They might have their differences but George has always been his closest friend besides Sapnap. He doesn’t want to hurt George. 

George takes out a small book from his pocket with his other hand and starts reading the page. 

He doesn’t notice Sapnap sneaking up behind him, or Fundy slithering out from behind a building nearby, potions in hand. 

“Dream, for the crimes you have committed, including stealing Tommy’s music discs, refusing to recognize L’Manburg as independent, contributing to Wilbur’s insanity and death, providing the tnt that blew up L’Manburg—“

Dream can’t believe what he’s hearing. Is he really being arrested right now? With the way George is talking, it really seems like it. 

They even made a list of his crimes. 

Why him? 

There are so many other people in L’Manburg who have done so much more than him. The amount of bad things Dream has done is tiny in comparison to some others. Why are they targeting him specifically?

A moment of realization washes over him. He dethroned George not too long ago, and he knows both of his friends are still mad about it. 

But to do this? To go to such lengths after such a simple disagreement? 

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t see Sapnap reaching for him until it’s already too late. A pair of arms wrap around him, locking him in place with a grip near-bruising. 

Dream’s first instinct is to struggle, and he does, but Sapnap’s hold is strong and unyielding. He can’t move his arms to reach for his axe anymore. 

When he turns his head to look at Sapnap over his shoulder, he sees his friend shudder as he looks at the mask. 

Sapnap always said he thought Dream’s mask was cool. Every time he saw that mask he would smile and beckon Dream closer. 

But things have changed now. Sapnap is looking at him just like everyone else looks at him. With fear, disgust, anger. 

Suddenly the mask feels suffocating on his face. He wants to take it off, maybe then they’ll see he’s still the same Dream they’ve always known. But he can’t move his arms, he can’t show them. 

He looks back when George steps forward, and he’s almost expecting them to tell him this was all some silly joke. But George reaches for his axe and pulls it away, out of Dream’s reach. The compact crossbow, shield, and knife on his hip are also taken. 

Dream shimmies in place, wanting to take them back but unable to get Sapnap to relax even a fraction. 

There’s a pool of dread starting to settle in his stomach. 

“—dethroning the king twice, demanding Tommy be exiled and tormenting him after the fact, aiding in Technoblade’s escape from execution for his crimes, and the many accounts of griefing, bombing, bribery, theft, and murder.”

All of his weapons are dropped to the grass and left there. Dream feels bare without them, exposed to the elements in a way he wasn’t before. 

George closes the book and stuffs it back in his pocket. “I’m sorry, Dream, but you did this to yourself.”

And at that moment he feels a surge of anger. He only did what he thought was best! He dethroned George to keep him safe! He’s keeping Tommy under his thumb so he doesn’t continue to cause problems for everyone! 

Is this what he gets for trying to make this place safe for once? 

Dream scowls, and he knows they can both hear it. 

“And where are you planning on putting me, Georgie? Those flimsy cells in the court can’t hold me for long.”

Now the nickname isn’t a test, it’s a jab, a taunt to try and wind him up so he makes a mistake, something Dream can exploit to get out of this. He can still make it out of this. 

“Not the court,” Sapnap says from behind him as George and him take one of Dream’s arms each and start dragging him down the path with Dream backwards. 

It’s only now that he sees Fundy, two potions of weakness in each hand. If Dream gets hit with those then he’s not going to get far, but he’s much faster than anyone here so it wouldn’t be too difficult to run for it if only he could break out of his friends’ grips. 

He relaxes in their arms, letting them drag him along for a minute while he thinks of a way out. But their hold never falters for even a second, and Fundy’s gaze is trained on him intently. They’re really not messing around. 

With Dream being forced to face the opposite way as George and Sapnap, he doesn’t see exactly where they’re going, but judging by the buildings they’re passing it looks like they’re getting closer to Skeppy and Bad’s mansion. He doesn’t know why. Maybe they secretly built a dungeon underneath or something.

“Where are we going, Georgie?” 

“To the prison,” he answers simply. 

Dream goes rigid. 

They’re putting him in the prison. 

They’re—

The prison isn’t finished. Sam told him so himself before he left to take a break. He even showed Dream the inside. He said he was done making it inescapable, but there was still a lot more to go. The cell doesn’t even have any light. He’s not sure if it even has food yet. 

“Let me go.”

“We can’t do that, Dream,” Sapnap tells him as if scolding a child. 

Dream’s struggling begins anew. He tries to rip himself away from them in an unexpected, sudden move, but they hold firm. They’re not giving him even an inch of leeway. 

“The prison isn’t ready!”

They both ignore him. 

They probably think he’s lying, trying to twist his words so they’ll believe him. They have no idea what they’re actually doing. 

“Sapnap!”

His friend ignores him, gripping Dream’s arm hard enough to bruise.

“George!” 

No response. 

They veer off the path and when Dream turns his head to look he can see the prison looming before him. 

Where only moments before it had been his pride, now it’s his cage. 

There’s no way he’s going to be able to get out of it. It’s pure obsidian walls are just as inescapable as Sam promised. And Sam himself is on break. He won’t know what’s happened until it’s too late. He said he was going to be gone for a while. 

As soon as that door closes, Dream’s life is over. 

He struggles harder, using every bit of strength he has to try and slip free. Maybe if it was just Sapnap, he would’ve gotten free, but with the both of them combined it’s a useless endeavor. That doesn’t stop him from trying. 

He’s not sure what he yells at them, a string of curses and pleads for them to believe him, but it starts to draw a crowd. 

As he fights for his life, people watch from afar. People he used to call friends stand there and do nothing. Not Puffy or Punz or Alyssa. Not Bad or Eret. They stand back and watch with a sick fascination that makes Dream’s stomach turn. 

He manages to bash the back of his head against George’s, but it doesn’t help. He simply shakes it off and keeps walking. 

Fundy’s hands shake as he holds the potions of weakness, his ears pinned back in fear. Dream spits venomous words at him, and yet he doesn’t waver. 

Dream thought they were his friends, but apparently that was just a delusion. 

Did anyone really care about him at all? Was it all just an act? Did he just fool himself into thinking they cared this entire time? 

They reach the entrance to the prison, the big swirling portal casting an ominous purple glow. And just as they’re about to go through, he hears a voice. 

When he looks up at the hill where people have gathered, at the very front of the group he sees Tommy. 

Tommy, who’s jumping up and down with a big grin on his face, celebrating.

“Finally! The green bastard is gonna get what’s coming to him!”

And in that moment before the portal swallows them up, Dream feels a pit of despair open up inside him. 

It’s in that moment that any semblance of trust he had for George, Sapnap and the rest of them is completely severed. For the very first time in his life, he feels completely and utterly alone. 

He doesn’t remember the trip from the portal to the cell. All of it passes in a blur of animalistic fear and rage as he claws at anything he can reach, desperately trying to get away. He’s not sure what he says, but with the grimaces set on all of their faces he can guess that it’s nothing good. 

And then he hears the clanging of the door opening. They toss him in like he weighs nothing at all, and he lands on his hands and knees. He scrambles to get back up, nearly falling in his haste. 

But as soon as he whirls around and tries to get to the door, it’s already closing. 

He has just enough time to scream out a “Wait—!” before the door shuts with a deafening bang and he’s plunged into darkness. 

His mask cracks against the obsidian before him and he stumbles back, stunned by the impact. He shakes it off quickly and rushes back to pound his fists against the door that he can no longer tell apart from the walls around it. 

“Sapnap!! George!!” 

He screams and all he can hear is his own voice echoing back at him. Even when he stops to listen for footsteps, nothing reaches his ears. 

His breathing starts to speed up. The cell is cold and dark. It feels like the void itself is reaching out to drag him further into its depths. 

He punches the wall. It hurts, but once he starts he can’t seem to stop. 

“Fundy!”

He hits the wall over and over and over again. His knuckles start to bleed but he can barely feel it past the crushing sense of fear, rage, confusion, and everything else swirling in his mind. 

“Bad?!”

Silence rings out after his echo has faded. Nobody is coming to open the door. They can’t hear him. They wouldn’t care even if they could. 

“Sam?” 

He whimpers pathetically. He knows Sam is miles away, completely unaware of what’s happening. 

But even if he was here, would he let Dream out? Does he hate Dream just as much as everyone else seems to? 

Maybe that’s why he left in the first place, not to take a break but to intentionally ignore what George and Sapnap planned to do. 

His punches eventually dwindle down to nothing. His hands are bleeding and he doesn’t care to fix them. The bones there could be completely shattered for all he cares. 

It’s so quiet. The silence is suffocating already and it’s barely been a few minutes. Or maybe it’s already been hours. He doesn’t know. 

“Anybody…”

Dream’s legs give out on him and he slides down to the floor, pressing his mask and arms against the door as he collapses there. 

“Let me out, please…”

He starts to feel the pain in his hands and his lungs stutter. 

Everything is all wrong. There’s no way this is actually happening. This has to be some elaborate prank or a nightmare or something. 

They never even told him how long he would be in here for. Will it be days? Weeks? Months?

It already feels like he’s been in here for far too long. 

In a sudden burst of energy, Dream shoots up from the floor with a gasp and stumbles through the room blindly. He can’t see anything, not even his own hands. It’s so cold—

He hits the opposite wall earlier than he thought he would, and the image in his head of how small this place must be gives him a sense of claustrophobia he’s never felt before. 

He crosses his arms and grip his elbows, not caring for the pulsing pain that travels down his arms. He vaguely registers that he’s shivering even with his warm hoodie. 

He turns around and heads back towards the door, finding it again after only a few steps when his foot hits something besides empty air. 

He starts pacing, slowly at first and then with increasing desperation. 

Was he really that bad of a person? Out of everyone else who has done terrible things, is he really the worst of them? 

He had always assumed that since he had good intentions at heart that the things he did were at least somewhat reasonable. Was he wrong to try to make his land a safe place? Did he sacrifice too much? 

What did he do so wrong to force his closest friends to abandon him? 

After everything they’ve been through together, was it really so easy to throw all of that away? 

Did they ever care in the first place?

George’s words ring in his ears, playing on loop like a bunch of mocking birds flying around his head.

“I’m sorry, Dream, but you did this to yourself.”

His grip tightens despite that pain that follows. 

Rage bubbles up inside him. 

Fine. If they don’t care about him then he won’t care about them. He’s going to slaughter every last person he ever mistakenly called a friend until they stay dead. 

Then he won’t have to deal with all this chaos ever again. He can have all of the Greater SMP and L’Manburg all to himself with nobody to take care of except himself. 

He ignores the sharp stab in his heart at the mental image. All alone, nobody to talk to. His friends would be dead, and his soul would go with them. 

George and Sapnap abandoned him. Everyone did. They’re leaving him to rot in a cell that isn’t finished, a cell that he could waste away and die in. 

Is that what they want? For him to die in the most painless and yet painful way possible? All alone…

Do they really hate him that much?

“I’m sorry, Dream…”

Dream paces until his feet hurt, his breathing speeding up until it feels like he can’t breathe at all. He twitches and shakes his head back and forth as his swirling thoughts only grow in intensity. 

“Let me out, let me out, let me out—“

“...you did this to yourself.”

“I didn’t! I just wanted to keep everyone safe!”

But as soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows it’s a lie. 

He wanted to keep his friends safe. He wanted to keep himself safe. But not everyone. Not Wilbur or Tommy or Schlatt. Not any of the other people he hurt in order to achieve that safety for the people he cared more about. 

“Selfish… I’m selfish! Is that really so bad?”

Yes, he thinks. When people are getting killed because of his own selfish desires, it really is that bad. 

He wonders what L’Manburg and the Greater SMP would be like if Dream was never involved. If he had simply stayed out of all the conflict and kept to himself, what would’ve happened instead? 

He sees a not blown up L’Manburg, a happy festival without any ulterior motives or plots of destruction. He sees genuine smiles and fireworks not aimed to kill but for celebration. 

Is he the real reason why everything is so screwed up? Was he just fooling himself into thinking it was Tommy the entire time when really it was all Dream’s fault? 

Were George and Sapnap completely justified in throwing him in prison? 

“No! That can’t be right! I-I was only doing what I thought was best!”

But his best was never good enough. No matter what he does, everything falls into ruin eventually. He’s the reason L’Manburg was destroyed along with Wilbur’s mind. He’s the reason Tommy grew increasingly violent with each new prank. 

He’s the reason George and Sapnap hate him. 

All of it is his fault. 

His hands reach up to grip his hair and tug, his pacing becoming more erratic. 

“It’s not my fault. It can’t be my fault—“

But then why else would George and Sapnap abandon him? They’re both still the same people they’ve always been. Maybe they laugh a little less often, but they’re still George and Sapnap. 

That can only mean that he’s the one who’s changed. They promised they would never abandon him, so the only reason they would is if…

...if they don’t see him as Dream anymore.

“N-no, that’s not right—“

He’s always been Dream. He’s always tried to do the right thing, just like he’s always done. He just wanted to keep his friends safe. 

But something must have changed. What was it that changed? 

He knows he’s started acting differently lately in terms of how he expresses himself. He’s been less emotional lately, colder. But that was out of necessity! George and Sapnap changed in the same way!

Or, at least, he thought they did. 

Maybe they only started acting that way towards him. Maybe the same thing that Dream fears from people like Wilbur and Schlatt is what George and Sapnap fear from Dream. 

“I’m not Wilbur! I’m not Schlatt!”

Except he is. He provided the tnt that Wilbur used. He’s the reason L’Manburg was destroyed. He’s a ruthless ruler like Schlatt. He exiled Tommy just like Schlatt did. 

Is Dream just a worse combination of the two most psychotic people in L’Manburg? Is he the culmination of all their worst traits? 

Just like Wilbur’s downfall was his family, will Dream’s downfall be his own family? 

Just like Schlatt died a pitiful, ironic death, will Dream die the same way? 

Will they celebrate this day? The day that they finally took down the tyrannical Dream? 

That’s a silly question. Of course they will. Tommy was already celebrating before he even got into the prison. It’s not a stretch to think that others share his sentiment. 

“S-shut up, shut up—“

Will they have a festival? Will George and Sapnap be there? 

He can already imagine it. His best friends hopping between stalls, smiling and laughing like they used to, overjoyed that they finally cut Dream out of their lives. 

He growls and tugs at his hair harder. 

It hurts to think about. It hurts so much—

They said they would never abandon him. They promised so many times. Was it really that easy to sever that bond he thought they had? Was any of it real? 

It’s so dark and so very cold—

Nobody is here to reassure him. Nobody is here to tell him he isn’t a horrible person who’s done horrible things. 

He’s all alone and it terrifies him—

He’s never been so alone before.

He’s so alone.

All alone.

He just wants his friends back.

In one abrupt motion, he rips his mask off his face and throws it with all his strength. 

It hits a wall and shatters into a million pieces. He can’t even watch it happen, it’s so dark. It echoes through the room and then everything goes silent once again. 

Dream drops to his knees and screams until he can’t anymore. 

Dream wakes up with a strangled scream, still partially trapped in his nightmare. 

He doesn’t know where he is but it’s dark and cold and all he can think about is being in the prison—

Nobody is here to help him, he’s all alone, alone again just like he always is—

He can’t breathe and every attempt to draw in air hurts so much—

He claws at his ragged hoodie with bloody hands. It feels like he’s burning alive, like his entire chest is on fire. 

He wants his dad. He needs comfort so badly in that moment and yet despite how he writhes and whimpers, nobody comes. 

It’s just like the prison all over again. It doesn’t matter if he punches the obsidian walls until his hands break or if he screams and screams until his throat tears itself apart. It doesn’t matter what he does, nobody comes to help him. 

It takes a long time for Dream to calm himself down. Or more like he tires himself out panicking so much that he can’t panic anymore. He doesn’t know how long it takes but it feels like an eternity. 

The first thing he registers past the pain and fear is that he’s lying on the floor. 

He’s in his room, the one Phil gave him, the one filled with so much junk. It’s calming, seeing something besides bare walls. The more cluttered his room becomes, the less he thinks about the prison. 

Except he’s not on his bed, he’s huddled in the space between the nightstand and the bed, curled in on himself and facing the wall. 

He remembers hiding in a similar place before, when he first woke up in Phil’s house. He was in Wilbur’s room back then, but it’s the same area. It took Phil a long time to calm him down then. Dream didn’t trust him at the time, and he was disoriented and scared after waking up in an unfamiliar place. He had just gotten out of the prison, and he was terrified that Phil was going to send him back. 

He doesn’t remember how he got here. 

He does remember last night. He remembers Phil passing out in his arms and how the first thing Tommy did after he finished wrapping Phil’s wings was chase Dream out of the room, trident in hand. He was furious and Dream was so scared—

He remembers slamming his door shut and locking it just in time for Tommy to bash his shoulder into it. He had banged on the door a few times, yelled at Dream to get out because this isn’t his home and it never will be—

He had wandered off eventually, probably to go look after Phil, and Dream was left there shaking and gasping for breath because the door is locked and it reminds him of the prison and Tommy is going to drag him back and he won’t survive it a second time—

He doesn’t remember much after that. That’s probably a good thing, he thinks distantly. 

The spot he’s in isn’t very comfortable, but the smaller, more protected space soothes him somewhat. His room is only a bit smaller than the cell he was in, and if he were to stand in the middle of it he might just fall into another panic attack. This place is better, even if his broken ribs send him painful protests at the odd position he’s in. 

He feels small and insignificant here, like he might just fade out of existence. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least then Tommy wouldn’t be able to get to him. He wouldn’t have to go back to the prison. 

It’s dark outside. He must’ve only been asleep for a few hours. He doesn’t feel rested at all, and now his body aches twice as much. 

He’s still covered in blood. It’s dry and flaking off his hands and hoodie. It’s probably on his face and in his hair too. 

He holds one hand in front of his face and stares at it distantly. It trembles slightly, his aching arm barely able to hold it up in the first place. 

Dream can still feel the way Phil slumped against him, how his first thought was that he can’t be dead, there’s no way he can be dead—

He can still see the faint reflection of his blood-stained feathers as they fell to the floor. He can see Tommy’s horrified expression as he realized he was the one that pulled them. 

And when Tommy finished wrapping Phil’s wings and settled him down on the couch turned red, he had glanced at Dream standing awkwardly nearby and flew into a rage.

He thinks it was Dream’s fault, and Dream can’t find it in himself to disagree. 

His hand returns to gripping his hoodie and he hesitantly uncurls himself to look around his room. 

His ribs are probably broken and he needs to treat them before they puncture a lung or whatever else. He needs to get to the kitchen and the bag of medical supplies in the living room to do it. 

It’s been a few hours since Tommy chased him up to his room, so Tommy is probably asleep right about now. At least, he really hopes Tommy is asleep right now. The house is quiet as far as he can tell. 

Dream carefully extracts himself from his little hiding space. He’s aching all over and he can’t stretch for fear of jostling his ribs again. 

He takes a stumbling step towards the door, gasping as the pain really hits him. His next step hurts just as much and he wraps his arms around himself as if the pressure will help. It doesn’t. 

He reaches the door eventually, and as he goes to unlock the door he hesitates. 

Tommy could be right outside the door, waiting for him to come out so he can get some use out of that trident. There’s no way Tommy would actually have enough patience for that, but just the thought makes him pause. 

This reminds him of when George and Sapnap found him. Sneaking around the house trying not to wake them. Except this time he might die if he doesn’t treat his ribs and he might die anyway just to Tommy if he wakes up. 

Dream shudders. He doesn’t have a choice this time. 

The lock clicks open and he winces as the door creaks when he opens it. 

A quick peek into the hallway shows nothing. Tommy isn’t there waiting to murder him, and a fraction of the tension he has leaves him. 

There’s a small streak of blood on the floor by the stairs and on the walls, on the handle of his door. 

He remembers an animalistic fear take over his body as he scrambled to get away from the blue glint of the trident aimed for his back. He fell at the top of the stairs and Tommy had nearly gone for the killing blow right then. Only Dream’s desperation to get away as fast as possible had saved him. He remembers flinching and bumping into the wall, and then pushing himself off to reach for the door, Tommy right behind him—

Was that the same fear Tommy had felt when Dream made his visits? That frantic urge to get away, get away before he gets you—

His gut twists painfully as a surge of guilt and shame fills him. Why did he ever believe he was justified in doing what he did? Why couldn’t he have just listened for once in his life—

This is what he deserves, he reminds himself. He deserves to feel this way. This is his punishment. Months in the prison must not have been enough. 

He deserved to be in the prison, but the thought of going back there… 

Even if it’s probably what’s best for everyone, he can’t do it, not again. He can’t let Tommy take him back.

Dream tears his gaze away from the smears of blood and takes his first shaky step out of his room. 

The wooden floor creaks below him and he freezes in place. He holds his breath, waiting for something awful to happen. 

A moment passes, and then another. 

Nothing happens. There’s no shuffling from behind a door or angry yelling from downstairs. 

The house is silent. 

He releases a tiny exhale and gathers his courage to take another step. 

“Dream!”

He jolts violently, nearly crashing into the nearest wall. Dream whips his head to the side and his eyes widen as he comes face-to-face with Ghostbur. 

He’s floating a few inches above the ground and leaning so far forward that their noses are almost touching. There’s a wide grin on his face. 

For a split second, it reminds Dream of the old Wilbur, his manic smirk promising death and ruin in his wake. Fire and explosions flash across his vision. Then he blinks and it’s all gone. 

Ghostbur isn’t Wilbur, he reminds himself. They might look the same, but they are completely different people. There’s no tnt here. No wars or elections. He tries his best to focus on the present. 

“I was wondering where you ran off to. I heard Tommy asking for you. Does he know you’re here? I can go get him if you’d like—“

“N-no!” Dream says frantically and then grimaces at how loud he sounds. He reduces himself to a raspy whisper. 

“It’s-s f-fine.” 

Ghostbur tilts his head a bit, and then the rest of his body follows the motion until he’s slowly spinning in midair. 

“Ok!” He says cheerfully once he’s upside down, still spinning. 

He doesn’t make any effort to reduce his volume, and Dream is suddenly very aware of his surroundings. Anxiety crawls up his back and makes him shiver. He glances nervously at the doors in the hallway, ready to bolt at any second. 

“Have you met Friend yet? I think you would like Friend. He’s very nice and warm and cuddly. And since you’re my friend and Friend is my friend then you can be friends with each other!”

Dream’s breathing speeds up, the beginnings of panic clawing at his throat. If Tommy is asleep, then he probably won’t be for long. He could come out of any door at any second. 

He just needs to get downstairs and treat his ribs but the more that Ghostbur talks the weaker his legs get and he’s not sure if he can make it down there in time before Tommy finds him—

“P-please… n-n-not now Ghos-stbur.”

But Ghostbur isn’t even listening to him anymore. He’s happily talking about Friend and Tommy and all the fun things the four of them are going to do together and he’s talking softly like he always does but every word seems to get louder and louder in Dream’s head—

He wants to go back to his room before Tommy finds him. He needs to lock his door and hide away. But there’s a sharp pain in his chest and he needs to treat his ribs as soon as possible and he can’t make his legs move—

“Oh hi Tommy!” 

Dream flinches and snaps his eyes up to look where Ghostbur is looking. 

Partway down the hall, peeking out from a room that must have been Tommy’s, is none other than Tommy himself. 

He rubs his eyes tiredly and grumbles under his breath about being loud and obnoxious. And then he looks up and locks eyes with Dream. 

Dream wants to run, needs to, but just like before he can’t force himself to move. 

Tommy’s expression morphs into one of anger yet again. 

“Dream,” he says, and the tone he says it with makes his breath hitch. 

His door is right there, barely two steps away. Tommy doesn’t even have his trident this time. He can just run and lock his door again. 

He can’t move. Why can’t he just move?!

Tommy moves towards him, fists tightened by his sides. Dream scrambles back and quickly hits a wall, unable to go farther. His wide, scared eyes are trained on Tommy. 

Ghostbur floats between them and for a second Dream almost hopes that he’s going to stop what’s about to happen, protect Dream like Dream once protected him. 

“Didn’t you say yesterday that you wanted to talk to Dream? I found him! What are you guys going to talk about?”

Tommy scowls and waves a hand like he’s brushing Ghostbur off. “How about you go play with Friend, Wil.”

Ghostbur floats even higher, smiling excitedly at the mention of his sheep. 

“Ok!” he says, and then he’s flying down the stairs. He disappears, leaving Dream and Tommy alone. 

He really doesn’t want to be alone with Tommy. 

“Why the hell are you here, Dream.”

Dream jolts and hunches his shoulders, tense and shaking. He can’t stand holding eye contact with Tommy for too long, so he glances between Tommy’s feet and the floor instead. 

“I-I… I-I w-was…”

“What’s wrong with you?! Spit it out!” Tommy yells, closing more of the distance between them. 

Dream whimpers and presses himself harder against the wall. 

“P-Phil f-found me-e a-a-and I d-didn’t wan-nt t-to leave…”

He has to force the words out of his throat, struggling to even think straight with the way Tommy is glaring at him. 

The grip he has on his torso tightens and he gasps as his ribs move and his chest pulses in pain. 

“You didn’t want to leave? What kind of horse crap is that?! You’re supposed to be in prison!”

Tears sting at Dream’s eyes. 

“I kn-now. I’m s-sorry.”

“You’re ‘sorry’?”

Tommy growls and stomps over. He doesn’t give Dream any time to react as he grabs the front of his hoodie, pulls him closer, and then slams him back against the wall. 

Dream’s vision whites out as pain explodes in his chest and he cries out. Tommy doesn’t care though. Maybe once, a long time ago, he might have cared. Not today. Not anymore. 

“You don’t get to be sorry after what you did to me!”

Dream’s knees go weak, barely able to hold himself up. The tears have started falling now, streaming down his face to drip onto the floor. 

Tommy slams him against the wall again and Dream grits his teeth to stop the shriek that almost leaves him. 

“‘M s-sorry. S-s-sorry. So-orry—“

He knows it won’t help his situation, but the stream of apologies leaves him involuntarily. He just wants to get out of this. He wants to take care of his injuries and go to sleep. He wants Tommy to understand. 

He knows he’s a horrible person. He knows and he loathes himself for it. He wishes he could be good but he knows that’s never going to happen. There’s no instant fix for someone as bad as him. But he regrets his actions. If he could take it all back, he would in a heartbeat. He’s so sorry for everything and he just wants Tommy to understand that. 

“I don’t care!” he screams and presses Dream into the wall so hard that it forces out a broken whine as the pressure on his ribs grows to be too much. 

He stops breathing for a few seconds. 

Then Tommy lets go of him and he drops to the floor heavily. He coughs and gasps, every tiny movement of his lungs is like being struck by lightning. 

He weakly curls into himself , his knees almost reaching his chest and his arms crossed over his front protectively. 

When he glances up past the hair that’s fallen over his eyes—

He sees the swish of a long red cape, the golden glint of a crown.

He sees Technoblade standing tall and proud and oh so furious before him. 

Now it’s Tommy who has been slammed against a wall, Techno’s arm pressed against his shoulders so hard that he’s lifting Tommy off the ground. Tommy is clawing at Techno’s arm and kicking his legs uselessly, no match for his much larger and stronger brother. 

“Get off me!” Tommy shrieks, but Techno doesn’t bat an eye. 

Dream feels a surge of relief that has him crying that much more. 

Techno is here. His brother is here. Dream is safe now. Techno will protect him, he knows he will, even from Tommy. 

He’s safe. His brother will make sure of that. 

Techno turns his head to look down at Dream. 

“I thought I told you not to die while I was gone.”


	17. Shards Of The Past

Sam and Ranboo have a lot in common. You wouldn’t think they would get along at first glance, but Sam finds that he actually really enjoys Ranboo’s company. 

For one thing, they’re both very tall, two of the tallest people in the Greater SMP area and beyond. The only other person Sam has met who is taller than them is Bad. 

That was what drew him to Ranboo in the first place. He had seen the guy awkwardly ducking under the door frame to get into Niki’s Bakery for some cake and decided to strike up a conversation. 

They spent probably close to an hour just complaining about all the difficulties that come with their heights. Ranboo had even shared his cake between them. Niki always makes the most delicious cakes. 

Another thing that they both have in common is mob traits. They’re both hybrids, like Technoblade and Schlatt. Sam’s creeper ancestor is pretty far down the bloodline, so he doesn’t have very many visible characteristics, not like Ranboo who is practically a full enderman, but it’s enough for them to relate to each other. 

But more than their similar physical traits, Sam discovers that they share other things as well. 

They’re both neutral, for one thing. They care more about family and friends than allies and grudges. 

Ranboo, hunched over and animatedly swinging his hands all over the place, talks to him excitedly about how much he loves spending time with Techno and Phil. He says he hasn’t seen Phil in weeks, and Techno has been gone for more than a few days now. He says he misses them, and Sam understands the sentiment. 

Sam’s roommates, Sapnap and George, have also been gone since…

Ranboo tilts his head curiously at Sam, silently questioning why he suddenly went quiet. 

Sam clears his throat and leans back on the bench they’ve found themselves sitting on. It overlooks a decent chunk of the buildings dotted along the Prime Path from near the museum. If he looks really hard, he can just barely make out a sliver of dark stone over a hill in the distance. The sight of the prison makes his gut twist. 

“Uh, Sapnap and George were living with me for a while. Y’know, before…”

Ranboo looks confused, like he’s about to ask a question. Then his face lights up in realization. 

“Oh! Oh… I’m, uh, sorry.”

He shuffles in place a bit awkwardly, tense silence settling between them. Ranboo seems to be a very awkward person, Sam has noticed. 

It’s understandable. Nobody really wants to think about what happened. 

George and Sapnap left about two days after Dream was taken out of prison, after he disappeared from the community house. They’ve been gone for almost three weeks now, and everyone is worried. 

Sam wasn’t at the community house for that, but he was at the prison when they let him out. Or more like carried him out. 

Sam had just come back from his break in the mesa biome Tubbo introduced him to ages ago. He had spent months not thinking about the Greater SMP or L’Manburg or anything else, just his inventions. It was fun, freeing, exactly what he needed to get his head on straight. 

He got back and he was happy. He was ready to continue building the prison just like Dream, his friend, asked him to. 

He got back and the first thing he saw was a party of George, Sapnap, and Fundy rushing down the path with grim expressions on their faces. He had stopped them to ask what was going on, and when they told him…

Sam doesn’t think he’s ever felt such terror in his life.   
The prison wasn’t finished, and they threw Dream in there—

He hadn’t put anything in the room yet. No cauldron or lectern or chest full of journals. There wasn’t even a bed. Just a bare room, completely void of light and sound, with only an automatic water and bread dispenser. 

There was supposed to be other foods too, like baked potatoes and apples and maybe even some of his favorite pumpkin pie. 

Dream never stood a chance in that room. 

He came back from a break only to discover that any semblance of the friend he used to know was destroyed. 

Sam didn’t know what to do. He was stuck there on that path, frozen in shock as he processed what he had been told. The group had already started sprinting towards the prison, intent on getting him out as fast as possible, desperate to know if he was even alive. Sam stood there, staring down at the wooden path without really seeing it. 

He doesn’t know how long he stood there. It was only when the group came by again, this time with Sapnap holding an unconscious, maskless, deathly thin, covered in blood Dream, that he finally snapped out of his trance. 

He turned around and made a break for his house. He figured Dream would need medical care, so he booked it to his house, gathered as much supplies (and pumpkin pies) as he could, and raced back. He made it to the community house in record time, and George had gratefully taken his supplies and started the long process of helping his friend. 

Sam wasn’t there for that. He got a glance of just how incredibly skinny Dream was, the tear stains on his face, the blood on his knuckles, and he couldn’t look anymore. He let George and Sapnap handle it while he forced himself to take deep breaths and focus on other things. 

He made it back to his house much slower the second time, and as soon as the stone door closed behind him he had collapsed on his bed and had the worst breakdown he’s ever experienced. He doesn’t want to think about that though, not while Ranboo is here. 

He misses Dream so much. He can’t imagine what the prison must have done to his mind. Seeing what it did to his body was bad enough. 

If he had just come back a little sooner—if he had never left in the first place, none of this would have happened. If he had known what they were doing to Dream while he was gone, he would have abandoned everything he was working on in a heartbeat to go rescue him. 

The guilt has been eating him alive lately, and with each passing day that he hears no news of George, Sapnap, or Dream it gets harder to force himself out of bed. 

He had seen Ranboo struggling to get through a door and it was the first time he smiled in weeks. Talking with Ranboo had made him forget all about Dream, and it was such a relief. Now he’s thinking about it all again and he can feel himself falling back into that pit of despair. 

He just wants to know that Dream is okay. 

“Did—Did you know him well?” Ranboo asks nervously, and he doesn’t have to say Dream’s name for them both to know exactly who he’s talking about. 

Sam glances at him from behind the paper creeper mask hanging over his face and sighs. 

“I did,” he answers simply. 

He didn’t talk with Dream often, but he didn’t need to. They took comfort in their silent connection. It wasn’t uncommon for Dream to take up a bed at Sam’s place or share a meal with him or just sit down next to Sam and bask in the comfortable silence. 

Dream had even confessed to him once that he has a very kind and fatherly personality that he enjoyed seeing. Sam had joked that with Sapnap and George living with him he has to be the dad or else everything gets set on fire. He remembers Dream bursting out into wheezing laughter, with Sam’s soft chuckles not far behind. 

Ranboo hums, a scratchy noise eerily similar to an enderman’s tone. “I don’t know him very well. Can you—I mean, would you mind, um, telling me about him?”

Sam sees what Ranboo is trying to do from a mile away. It’s easy to cheer someone up when they’re too busy thinking of what to say to be sad. But even if he recognizes the trick, he takes the bait anyway. He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t want to think about the guilt anymore. 

“Well, I’d say he’s very cunning,” he begins slowly, picking up steam as more memories of Dream come to mind. 

He talks about Dream’s sharp mind, his knack for picking up tiny details faster than anyone else. He talks about Dream’s skills, from climbing to parkour to combat and the littler things like how well he can sing and take care of animals and crack a joke at any given opportunity. He talks about Dream’s kind and also ruthless nature, how he would cut down anything in his path to keep the people he cares about safe and happy, how he might make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of the time) but he has a good heart. 

Ranboo nods along through his explanation, murmuring questions here and there. For such an awkward and nervous person, he’s so naturally attentive and compassionate that it’s hard to believe Sam has never met him before now. 

Of course Sam also has bad memories of Dream. He remembers the way his friend treated Tommy, the way Sam had to go behind his back to secretly gift the kid some pumpkin pie and tell him he could always crash at Sam’s house if he needed a place to stay. He remembers the days where Dream would be cold and distant or angry and aggressive, doing everything he could to push Sam away. He doesn’t remember those moments fondly. 

Even so, he misses his friend. But the way Ranboo beckons him to continue, genuine curiosity in his expression, makes the hurt fade a bit. 

“I hope he’s doing okay,” Sam finishes lamely. Ranboo nods his agreement. 

When Sam glances over, he finds Ranboo staring off into the distance with a strange look he can’t describe. 

He’s about to ask what he’s thinking about, but something else catches his eye. 

Much farther down the Prime Path, closer to the prison, there seems to be a group gathering. He can see a little circle of some people he can recognize from a distance and some people he can’t. It’s odd that anyone else would even be up this late. It’s past midnight, everyone should be asleep. 

Sam gets up without really thinking about it, already heading towards them. Ranboo watches him confusedly and calls out his name. It’s when he also sees the group that he rises from the bench as well and follows. 

The closer Sam gets, the more he can make out what they’re saying. It doesn’t seem like it’s an argument, although there is some shouting. He gets the feeling that something very worrying is going on.

It’s only when he hears Sapnap’s voice that he realizes, and then he’s walking a lot faster. 

He sees Sapnap and George in the middle of a circle of people frantically asking them dozens of questions at once, the two trying their best to calm everyone down. They look like they’ve been at this for more than a few minutes. The way they both turn their weary eyes to Sam and wordlessly beg him to intervene causes that familiar protective urge to stir. 

Sam finds the loudest of the group, which appears to be Quackity, and lightly pats him on the back, getting him to be quiet for long enough to let Sam’s own voice be heard. 

“Alright, everyone! How about we quiet down and let them speak?”

His voice is calm and level, but his insides are churning in anxious anticipation for any news of Dream. He needs to know that his friend is okay, and by the looks on everyone else’s faces as they reluctantly fall silent, he thinks the sentiment is shared. 

The group goes quiet and Sapnap and George breathe sighs of relief. Sapnap is the first to straighten himself and speak up.

“We found Dream.”

Everyone bursts out into questions once again and Sam really does feel like a father as he tiredly shushes them again. 

“How about we all stay quiet until Sapnap is done talking, alright?”

A few people look away in embarrassment, others look like they haven’t processed a word he said, but they do calm down a bit after that so Sam is hopeful that they will actually listen. 

He turns back to Sapnap, who sends him a grateful look as he continues.

“Dream has been living with Philza and Technoblade. Their house is about a two day journey through the nether from here. He’s been…”

Sapnap swallows and looks away. Sam gets an uneasy feeling in his gut. Is Dream okay? He needs to know. 

Luckily this time nobody interrupts as Sapnap tries to compose himself and George steps up instead.

“Dream has been doing better under their care. He’s healthier, and his wounds have mostly healed. It’s his mind that… isn’t doing so great.”

George adjusts his goggles for a second before he ends up taking them off entirely, and Sam knows everyone can see the redness of his eyes. 

“He’s not used to people anymore.”

Just that statement alone makes Sam’s heart twist. There’s so much that that sentence implies and he can’t think of a single way it can mean anything good. 

George looks down at the goggles in his hands and fiddles with them as he talks. 

“He—He has panic attacks and breakdowns pretty often. Any mention of… of the prison, doesn’t go so well. He was convinced that we only came to find him to throw him back in there. He probably still is.”

Sam’s breath hitches. 

He spent hours thinking about what Dream must be like now after being stuck in the unfinished prison for so long. He imagined a Dream that was angry at the world, intent on killing everyone in revenge. He imagined a Dream that was insane, delusional, unaware of what’s real and what isn’t. He imagined a Dream that was numb to the world around him, so far removed from his own body that he couldn’t recognize his own friends. 

One thing he never imagined was a scared Dream. 

It seems so obvious now that George is telling them, but the idea of fearless, deadly Dream having a breakdown at the mere idea of the prison… 

He’s never seen Dream genuinely scared before, not once in the years they’ve known each other. The thought of seeing someone like that in the midst of a panic attack makes Sam’s stomach turn.

He should have come back sooner. If only he had come back just a little sooner…

“Phil is going to be taking care of him until further notice,” George finishes with a tone of finality. 

Before anyone else can start spouting questions left and right, Sam is the first to speak up. 

“Is there any chance I—we could visit him?”

Everyone looks at George expectantly, but he shies away from their stares, as if he put all his energy into those few sentences and now he can’t say any more. 

Now it’s Sapnap’s turn to step up and rescue George. 

“Not right now. Probably not for… a long time. Phil never said anything about other visitors before we left, so if you really want to visit then be prepared for Techno to break your nose.”

He says it almost humorously, but Sam can see the faint bruises on Sapnap’s face, how his nose is a bit more crooked than it was before. 

Sam has never personally met Technoblade, but he has seen the guy in passing. He’s huge, a being of pure muscle even more intimidating than the piglins that he’s related to. Sam knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against a guy like that, especially if not even Sapnap could get past him. He might be taller than most, but he’s not one for combat. 

On the other hand, he really wants to see Dream. Just once, just to let him know that Sam is so sorry for what happened to him, just to see for himself that Dream is alive and relatively okay, that he’s being cared for. Just once so that Sam can sleep a little easier. 

“There’s really not much else we can tell you. Nothing important, at least.”

Sam wants to protest, to say that nothing is unimportant when it comes to Dream right now, but he manages to hold his tongue. A few others try to voice their own complaints, but they quickly fall quiet again without too much prompting. 

“We can’t stay long. We have work to do.”

Sam sees the determined glint in their eyes at that statement, and he feels a spark of curiosity. He hasn’t seen that kind of look on either of them in the months they’ve been living with him. What could they possibly need to do that’s so important? 

When Sapnap pushes through the small crowd with George right behind him, everyone once again bursts out into confused and demanding chatter. Thankfully they have enough sense to not follow the two of them, instead arguing among themselves. 

Sam manages to slip away from the group unnoticed, tuning out the mix of voices. Somehow Ranboo also gets away without a second glance, walking right alongside Sam as they follow his roommates, far enough back that they don’t see the pair of hybrids. 

They go off the Prime Path and head towards the beach. Just off its shores stands the prison, tall and imposing blackstone walls reaching deep into the ocean and nearly scraping the clouds above. It’s a massive thing, but it’s just a shell. A huge portion of the inside was either never finished or he never started building it. The only really completed part of it was the lone cell in the center, just a box of pure obsidian and a door. 

Sam looks at it and feels nothing but disgust. He’s disgusted that it exists in the first place, disgusted at himself for building what became Dream’s cage. 

Sapnap and George head for the portal that makes up the entrance. They never did close the portal behind them when they carried Dream out weeks ago. It’s been sitting there the entire time, the purple aura mocking anyone who would dare look at it. The pair are swallowed up, and Sam and Ranboo are quick to follow. 

Sam shudders as he enters the prison. 

It’s a dark, terrifying place. He never got around to adding proper lighting, the pile of soul lanterns still sitting in one of the many chests of materials outside. It’s quiet too, eerily so. The only thing anyone can hear is the echo of footsteps and shifting of armor. 

Sapnap brings out a torch to light his and George’s path while Sam and Ranboo stay back in the shadows. Although Sam figures they probably know they’re being followed. The echo isn’t doing them any favors, and his roommates are a lot more observant than they let on. 

They follow the long, twisting hallway deeper into the prison, the shadows growing darker and darker. Sam shivers and tries in vain to rub some warmth back into his arms. 

Dream was down here for three months. No light, no sound, no company. He must have been freezing. Sam can’t even imagine being this cold for such a long time, let alone not being able to see anything or talk to anyone… It must have been torture. 

Finally, they come to a stop in front of a door. It’s a pretty big door, several inches thick and with a lock so strong no amount of chopping at it with a netherite sword or axe would break it. Sam knows because he’s the one who designed it. He created and tested everything himself, and he hates himself for it. 

He never should have built this place. He should have refused Dream’s proposal. He should have taken the idea and discarded it as soon as Dream brought it up. 

But he did build it. He didn’t even have to finish it for it to be capable of destroying someone’s life. Any semblance of freedom and sanity that goes into this place never comes out again. 

He built this. Every block was of his own design. His intentions were clear.

He built this, and he paid the price with Dream’s soul, and maybe a few pieces of his own. 

The door is cracked open slightly. Nobody has been down here since they took Dream out. He has no idea what’s going to be beyond that door. 

A part of him wants to turn around and walk out. He doesn’t have to see this. He can just walk away. 

But he has to know. He needs to see what happened, why Dream is the way George described him. The idea of not knowing would hurt just as much. 

Sapnap reaches for the door with his free hand, George coming up beside him to help, and together they heave it open the rest of the way. 

Sapnap holds up the torch to illuminate the room and Sam is shocked by what he sees. 

The obsidian walls are covered in old, dry blood. It’s smeared around everywhere, caked on the walls and floor and there’s even a few splatters on the ceiling. The worst of it is centered on the back of the door, and Sam has to tear his gaze away or else he might just go insane. 

By the door, he sees the little dispenser built into the wall that’s supposed to deliver food and water. On the floor beside it is a large pile of what used to be bread. Now it’s like it’s all meshed together, a mountain of mold and whatever else fusing it together. Even from his position farther away from the cell, Sam can still smell it and that alone makes his stomach churn so badly he thinks he might vomit. 

There’s a pair of boots thrown to one side, probably discarded by Dream soon after his imprisonment. They’re in tatters, like they’ve been deliberately torn apart piece by piece. He must have gotten so lonely and bored that he had nothing else to do. 

But what really catches Sam’s eye and makes his heart ache is the fragments of white mask lying lifelessly on the floor. He can see the buckle that used to secure the mask to Dream’s face, but the rest of it is unrecognizable, each piece so thoroughly crushed that there’s no way it can ever be repaired. 

Dream used to love his mask. He was proud of it. It was something special to him. He wore it as comfortably as a second skin and often joked about how handsome it made him look.

Sam remembers Dream coming to him in a bad mood one day while he was working on the prison. He had sat himself down on one of the unfinished walls and talked. Sam let him rant on and on for what felt like hours about this and that. He was just glad that Dream was willing to talk to him at all, considering he had started to grow more distant at that point. 

He had mentioned his mask, how he was starting to get odd looks from people, how it was beginning to feel unnatural, like it didn’t belong there. He said that it was easy to hide his true face behind his mask, but it was becoming a chore to wear it, an unwanted burden on his life and relationships. He said that whenever he hid his emotions behind that mask, it felt like he was becoming a different person entirely, someone he didn’t want to be. 

And now here his mask lies, shattered and abandoned, left to collect dust in a place he will never return to. 

Sam remembers seeing his face briefly when he was being tended to in the community house. He remembers a gaunt, skeletal face and deathly pale skin, tattered hair that no longer looked blonde. But he also saw freckles and little scars here and there. When George had pried his eyes open to check his pupils, Sam saw a shade of green so vibrant it should have been able to glow in the dark. 

Does Dream miss his mask? Is he glad it’s gone? Did he smash it in a fit of anger or did he do this intentionally? Does he ever regret it? Does it even matter? 

Sam isn’t sure he’ll ever know. He’s not sure if he wants to. 

He doesn’t think as he walks past George and Sapnap into the cell and crouches down to grab a handful of tiny shards. When he holds them up to his face, he can just barely make out a few slivers of black paint, but it’s impossible to tell what part of the smiley face they came from. 

They’re so small, and yet they feel so heavy in his hand. He’s holding a piece of Dream, the part of him that was left behind in this cell when he was finally let out. 

Sam built this place. Dream was put in here because Sam never thought to tell anyone it wasn’t finished, because he went on a stupid break for far too long. Sam did this. 

He clenches his hand around the shards and ignores the pain as they stab into his skin. He’s shaking with anger directed at no one else but himself. 

A hand finds its way to his shoulder, and Sam reluctantly glances up to see George standing there. He stares down at Sam with so much sadness and shame in his eyes it’s incredible that he’s even standing. George looks away, glancing around at the cell without really seeing it, but he keeps his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and he can’t find it in himself to move away from the grounding touch. 

“He was terrified when we found him,” George begins softly, a kind of distance to his voice that wasn’t there before. 

“We were the ones to put him in this cell, and as soon as he saw us he ran for his life. He thought we were going to take him back. I don’t think he truly believed us when we said he would never come back here again.”

He pauses and now Sam looks away, staring down at the broken pieces of Dream’s mask. There’s a numb feeling settling over him now, and he finds himself relaxing without thinking about it. 

“Phil told us that if we wanted to visit Dream again, we have to tear this place down first. Every single block.”

Maybe once, almost a month ago, Sam would have protested. He worked hard on this prison, and to just throw it all away would be wasteful. 

But now he offers no such argument. This place has to go. It serves as nothing but a grim reminder of the torture they inflicted on their dearest friend. Sam is never going to finish building, not after this. It would be better for everyone if it simply disappeared. While it still exists, nobody is truly safe.

“We’re going to start with this room. I don’t think—I don’t think I can look at it any longer.”

Sam knows logically it would be smarter to start tearing it down from the outside and work their way in, get to the tough obsidian last, but that doesn’t matter. This cell is a curse, the very heart and soul of the prison, and terrible things have happened inside it. This place will be the first to go.

It’s at that very moment that Sam decides he’s going to help. No matter what it takes, he’s going to tear down this prison with them. Then maybe, just maybe, the shards in his hand will hurt a little less. Maybe then the guilt will fade and he can sleep soundly. 

Maybe then he will gather the courage to ask for Dream’s forgiveness. 

Sam picks himself up off the ground. George’s hand falls from his shoulders and he watches as Sam uncurls his hand to look at the shards once more. 

This was part of Dream once, a special part of him that he cherished deeply, a part that he grew to hate. Now it sits here, abandoned and about to disappear along with the rest of this room. 

Sam is going to make this right. 

He tips his hand to the side and the shards fall from his grasp to join the rest on the floor. 

He turns around to face everyone. A distant George, fiery Sapnap, and nervous Ranboo. 

They’re going to make this right together.

It doesn’t take them long to find a bunch of discarded pickaxes in one of the many chests of materials Sam kept inside and near the prison. They’re not the high quality netherite kind, but it doesn’t matter. 

Sam and the rest stand in the middle of the cell, pickaxes in hand, a silent conversation passing between them. 

Sapnap raises his pickaxe high above his head and smashes it into the obsidian floor below. A tiny crack is left in its wake, barely noticeable. 

George follows right after him. His previously faraway look has been replaced with cold determination. 

Ranboo goes next. He doesn’t have to be here. He barely knows Dream and he doesn’t have any reason to stay and help them. But he chooses to anyway, and for that Sam is forever grateful. 

Sam brings his pickaxe down with as much strength as he can muster, a splitting crack echoing through the room. The fracture grows bigger. 

This is going to take a long time. It’ll probably be days before they can get rid of just this cell, let alone the rest of the prison. 

But it doesn’t matter how long it takes. They’re going to tear it down, piece by piece, brick by brick, until there’s nothing left. Of this, Sam is certain. 

They’re going to make this right. 

They can do this, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some clarification:
> 
> In this fic, Sam is portrayed like his Twitch icon portrays him, with a paper creeper mask covering most of his face. Sad-ist’s portrayal of Sam (which has become a lot more popular lately) has him wearing one of those respirator masks and glasses/goggles. I imagine it like when he became the warden he changed his mask, so that’s why I’m sticking with Sam’s original design because in this fic he never became the warden. However, if you want to imagine him the other way then go ahead. 
> 
> Also, at this point in the story, Ranboo has heard Dream’s voice in his head before, which is why he had that weird look on the bench, because he was thinking about that briefly. I have no idea if I’m going to elaborate on that further into the story or not, only time will tell. 
> 
> Also also, yes I am using the canon heights for these characters, meaning that Ranboo is 8’5, Sam is 7’4, and Bad is (currently) 9’6. The idea is that Bad is only super tall now because of the egg’s influence but I’m not sure if I’m going to use that idea or not. Mostly I just really love the idea of Ranboo being so awkwardly tall that he can barely fit inside a house let alone a door. I think it adds to his character. (And you have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from writing Ranboo with a tail, it physically pains me but I must be accurate ;-;)
> 
> And to all the really cool people in the comments, keep being awesome!


	18. Family...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‼️CW: mentions of suicidal thoughts‼️
> 
> Heyo. So I’m not super happy with this chapter. The issues I brought up (that are part of canon btw) are some really heavy and complicated things that I was seriously considering leaving out of this fic entirely. I almost rewrote this entire chapter just because of that. I’m posting it anyway because I’m hoping I’m just overthinking and this chapter is actually completely fine.   
> If anyone has a problem with this chapter specifically, let me know and I can go back and change it.  
> In other news, this is pretty much peak angst right here. All the chapters after this are supposed to start steering away from the heavy stuff and more towards the comfort part of hurt/comfort.   
> Enjoy!   
> 💜

Techno is not happy. 

This isn’t anything unusual, he’s often unhappy, especially with everything going on in L’Manburg the past few years. But there’s just something about coming home after only three days of travel to find dozens of corpses on the front lawn, a heavily injured father unconscious on the couch still covered in blood, and his (uninvited and unwelcome) youngest brother trying to kill his (already traumatized) newest brother that really makes him miss the almost therapeutic aspect of shedding blood in the arena. It’s great for stress relief, that’s for sure, and he’s feeling pretty stressed right now. 

With Tommy dangling haphazardly off the floor, only held up by the sheer pressure Techno is using to press him against the wall, and Dream, collapsed in a corner, crying and clearly in pain, Techno has no idea when it became his job to keep the family from tearing each other apart, but here he is. After this is resolved, he’s going to do everything in his power to make Phil heal as quickly as possible, because there’s no way Techno can handle this alone. 

Techno turns back to Tommy and makes sure the kid can see the anger in his blood red eyes. It makes him cringe for only a moment before he’s immediately back to trying to struggle away. 

“I said get off!”

Normally, Techno would make some remark about how he’s technically not on Tommy so there’s no way he can get off him. He imagines the old Wilbur would probably make some kind of sexual comment about ‘getting off’. But Wilbur is dead, and Techno isn’t in the mood for games. 

“Why are you here, Tommy?” 

Tommy gives him an indignant look. “I think there are more important things to—“

He puts on a bit more pressure and Tommy chokes on his words. 

“Why are you here?” he asks again, this time making sure Tommy knows he’s serious. 

The kid struggles some more, trying to kick at Techno’s stomach, but he doesn’t move an inch. There’s no way he’s getting out of this until Techno willingly lets him go. He has to answer the question, but he looks oddly reluctant to say anything. 

Techno knows instantly that something is wrong. Tommy would never just come here out of a random urge to visit. He hasn’t visited Phil since before L’Manburg was first created, not once. Not even when he was in exile. 

Tommy never visits, so to show up now of all times, something had to have happened. Something major. 

“Everyone was running around screaming their fuckin’ heads off because Dream was missing and I just got sick of hearing it! That bastard should be in prison! If I had known he was here I never would have come!”

Dream whimpers, and Techno has to force himself not to drop Tommy and rush to his side. He can’t let Tommy hurt Dream any further, so right now calming Tommy down is first priority. He has to remind himself of that. 

He can see what Tommy is trying to do. He’s trying to distract Techno to avoid the question. That’s not unusual for Tommy, he’s never been great at answering questions, but right now, with his own big brother holding him up like this…

Something happened with Tommy to bring him here, and Techno is going to figure it out. 

“Why are you here, Tommy?”

The kid sputters and uselessly kicks out again. “I just told you!”

“What really happened, Tommy? Tell me the truth.”

“Wha—I just—are you just going to ignore—!”

“Tommy,” he says sternly. “You haven’t come here in years. I know something is wrong.”

Tommy’s expression flickers between anger, surprise, and something close to sadness. He can practically see the walls in Tommy’s mind breaking down before him, one at a time. 

“Tell me the truth.”

Tommy’s struggles dwindle down to almost nothing and he looks away with a scowl. To anyone else, it would look like he’s refusing to answer at all, but Techno can see the look in his eye that tells him the kid is really thinking about what he’s going to say. 

“I got in a fight with Tubbo,” he spits, his tone much softer than it was before. 

And now Techno understands. 

Tommy and Tubbo have been inseparable since they first met at a very young age. In fact, Tubbo lived with them for a while before Phil finally realized that he couldn’t care for four children very well at all and gave the kid over to Schlatt instead. Phil even ended up moving to the Greater SMP, the same area which later became L’Manburg, just because Tommy wouldn’t stop whining about wanting to see Tubbo. And as soon as they could, the two would meet up any chance they got. Every second of every day was spent in each other’s presence. 

Sure, the two have fought before, but they always managed to make up eventually. If Techno remembers correctly, the longest they’ve ever been angry at each other was about a week, and that was only because Tubbo accidentally broke one of Tommy’s favorite toys and it took him a week to fix it and give it back to Tommy. 

Tommy didn’t go through the nether to get here or else Techno would’ve seen him during his journey with George and Sapnap. That means it took him at least two weeks to get here through the overworld, probably longer since Tommy has a habit of getting lost. 

Tommy and Tubbo haven’t made up in at least two weeks. The fight was bad enough for Tommy to come here of all places. Techno has never seen them get this bad before. 

But that doesn’t give Tommy the right to hurt Dream. Dream is already traumatized enough without Tommy barging in and making everything worse. He knows Phil would agree, although he would also spout something about kindness bringing more kindness when Techno just doesn’t want to see Dream hurt any more. He won’t allow it. 

“Dream has been living here for weeks. He’s under my protection.”

He leaves it at that because he knows now is not the time to tell Tommy he technically has a new brother. That would not go over very well. 

Tommy looks at him shocked, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Any mention of Tubbo is immediately erased from his mind and he starts furiously struggling again. 

“What the fuck do you mean he’s under your protection?! Do you have any idea what that psycho did to me?!” 

“I don’t care what he did, I won’t let you hurt him.”

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes he never should have said them. 

Tommy’s face falls. Every hint of emotion he had is completely wiped. Techno knows he’s made a mistake as soon as the kid lights up in fury again, but this time he’s not seeing Techno as his brother but as an enemy instead. 

Tommy, for all that he constantly pranks and belittles and fights with his friends, still cares deeply for what they think about him. It might seem a bit self-centered, and maybe it is, but Tommy tends to take any kind of negative comment against him and blow it out of proportion. His thought process is always ‘they must hate me, so I’m going to make them miserable’. He craves validation and love far more than a normal person probably should. 

And now Techno, his brother, has just told him that he doesn’t care about his feelings, that he doesn’t care about what someone has done to hurt him. Tommy must already be feeling betrayed by Tubbo, and now to have his brother betray him as well…

Techno has no idea how he’s going to fix this. 

“He stole my discs! He got Wilbur killed! He made Tubbo exile me! And you have no idea what he did to me in exile! He destroyed my things and my house! He made me drop all my stuff in a hole so he could blow it all up every day! He convinced everyone not to visit me! He told me if I stepped foot in L’Manburg for even a second he would take away my last life! I struggled every single fucking day with nothing and no one to help me!”

Tommy snarls, thrashing in Techno’s hold with so much fury it’s becoming difficult to keep him there. 

“I wanted to kill myself!!” he screams.

Techno’s heart stops at those words. 

Tommy, his youngest brother. He really wanted to…

He’s on his last life. There wouldn’t be any respawn after that. That would be it. No more Tommy.

Dream did that? 

He knew Tommy was having a rough time in exile but he never had the time or patience to visit. He was a wanted criminal, and probably still is. If anyone had seen him visiting Tommy he would have either been followed back to his house or killed on the spot. 

He never saw what Tommy’s exile was like for himself. He only heard about it in passing from others. 

He had no idea that Dream was… 

He turns to look at Dream as if silently asking if this is true. 

And Dream looks up at him with wide, terrified eyes and then looks away in shame. 

Techno doesn’t know what to think. He promised he would protect Dream, but he also made the same promise to Tommy. Can he really uphold both promises at once or is one of them bound to be broken? 

This situation just keeps getting messier and messier and Techno doesn’t know how to handle it. Maybe if Phil was awake then he could figure this out. But it’s just Techno. He’s the last defense between these two people who have hurt each other time and time again. Which one of them is in the right? Maybe they both are, maybe it’s neither of them. 

Can he really consider both of these people his brothers? Or was this family doomed from the start? 

“I-I’m s-sorry. P-please…” Dream rasps almost too softly to hear. 

Techno remembers his talk with George and Sapnap in the nether, right before they parted ways. He told them ‘sorry’ isn’t enough, that what they did to Dream can probably never be fixed. 

He would be a hypocrite if he said that Dream’s apology is worth any more than theirs, no matter how much he believes Dream is actually sorry for what he did. 

Tommy wanted to kill himself because of Dream. That’s not something that can be forgiven so easily. 

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re sorry! This is all your fault!” Tommy’s words make Dream curl into himself pitifully.

Techno can feel his heart being torn in two different directions. He thought he knew what the right thing to do here was. 

He wants Phil. His dad always knows how to handle things like this. He’s much better with emotions than Techno. But he’s unconscious, and so heavily injured that it’s a miracle he isn’t dead already. Techno has to make a decision himself, but his mind is coming up empty. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

“All of this is your fault! All the wars and death and hatred, that’s all because of you!! If you just let L’Manburg be and gave me back my discs then everything would be fine!!”

Dream gasps in a desperate breath like the words are physically hurting him, and with the way he’s crying Techno isn’t so sure they’re not. It doesn’t look like he disagrees with a single thing Tommy is saying. He genuinely believes all of it was his fault. 

“You did this to yourself!”

Dream jolts so violently it looks like he’s been slapped. He makes a high keening sound, and suddenly he’s scrambling up from the ground. His entire body is trembling as he crashes into a wall trying to get around Techno to the stairs. 

“Dream—“ Techno starts, but Dream is already gone. 

He doesn’t think as he grabs the back of Tommy’s shirt and follows, dragging a kicking and screaming little brother with him. 

And once he makes it to the bottom of the stairs, he sees what Dream is trying to do. 

He fumbles with the latch on the ender chest in the corner of the living room, manages to throw it open, and frantically rummages through the contents. He takes out two music discs, and Tommy instantly stops struggling at the sight. 

The ender chest closes on its own and Dream stumbles over to the both of them with heaving lungs. He shoves the discs into Tommy arms, who hurries to grab them before they fall, and Dream backs away just as quickly. 

Tommy stares at the discs in shock, completely limp in his big brother’s hold. 

Techno has heard about the discs before, although he admittedly doesn’t know much. He knows a lot of conflicts have started because of them, and that Tommy views them as the most valuable thing in the world. He doesn’t know why. They look like regular discs, and not even the rare kind either. But he can tell that this exchange is something important, that Tommy acquiring them again is big news. 

As far as Techno knows, this is what Tommy has been after all along. The things he’s been hunting for so long are finally in his grasp, given to him by the same person who stole them in the first place. 

Techno takes advantage of Tommy’s less angry state and carries him over to the door. It’s still wide open, he hadn’t bothered to close it when he came in. He only heard yelling and rushed to the source as fast as he could. Now he plops Tommy down right in front of it and stands between him and the rest of the house. 

“You got what you wanted, right? Now go.”

Tommy sputters something about all his stuff being in his room upstairs, but Techno has had enough. He takes the bag still slung over his shoulder and shoves it into Tommy’s arms. The kid struggles to keep it and the discs from falling. 

The bag is still full of supplies, enough for a few days of travel at the very least. It’s everything the kid needs and more. 

“Take the nether portal to L’Manburg. It’s only two days from here. The path is pretty obvious.”

“You’re kicking me out? What about him?!”

Techno huffs and rises to his full height, prompting Tommy to take a step back, halfway out the door. 

“You have your discs. That was everything you ever wanted, right?”

Tommy hesitates, a spark of something like regret in his eyes. He goes to speak again, but Techno interrupts. 

“Just go, Tommy,” he says, exhaustion seeping into his tone.

“Make up with Tubbo or find someone else. I’m sure someone out there will let you crash at their place, they can probably help you much better than I can, but you can’t stay here.”

He hates pushing his brother away like this, especially after what he just told Techno, but it has to be this way. Tommy has other places to go, Dream doesn’t, and they can’t live in the same house. This is the only way. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy. Dream isn’t the same person he was before, and I know you don’t believe me when I say that, but all I can do is ask you to think about it.” 

He doubts that Tommy is actually going to think about it. He’s the stubborn type. Techno knows he can hold a grudge for a long, long time, no matter what anyone says or does to apologize. After everything happening in L’Manburg, it’s only gotten worse. 

The kid scowls at him, any trace of brotherly affection gone. He shoves the discs into the bag, throws it over his shoulder, and heads right out the door. 

“Fine,” he spits over his shoulder. “Just don’t complain to me about never visiting again!” 

He slams the door shut behind him so hard it looks like it’s about to break. 

“Be safe...” Techno says after he’s already gone, knowing Tommy can’t hear him. 

The house descends into silence. 

Techno stands there for several moments after the door closes, motionless. 

Dream is terrified. 

He knows now, what Dream did. 

Dream remembers that day in the nether, how Tommy stared down at the lava below with dull, empty eyes. He had leaned forward, just a little bit, just enough to be noticeable. 

And Dream had felt fear in that moment, perfectly concealed behind a mask and level voice. He pushed Tommy away from that ledge and told him it wasn’t his time yet. 

He hated himself for it. It was one thing to destroy his things and taunt him now and then, but to drive someone to jump into lava on their last life… 

He had watched Tommy closely after that, searching for any more signs that he might actually go through with it. And over time, the relentless watchfulness turned into something else. The memory of that day in the nether faded quickly, replaced with the paranoia that became so prominent in his life. Instead of searching for signs that Tommy might jump, he started searching for hidden chests, secrets that Tommy didn’t want him to find. 

He was so concerned with Tommy gaining power over him that he failed to consider anything else. He never sat back and really thought about what he was doing.

Even if he did, he doubts anything would have changed. 

It took three months in the prison, three months of torture, for him to finally realize the gravity of what he did. 

Tommy almost killed himself because of Dream. Dream was very close to killing Tommy himself. 

And now Techno knows. 

Techno knows and he must be so angry, maybe even furious enough to—

He turns around to face Dream. 

Techno’s face is just as blank as ever, not a hint of emotion in sight. And Dream knows that Techno isn’t angry but all he can see is the hurt in his eyes when Tommy told him—

Dream can’t breathe. 

Techno takes a step closer and all Dream can imagine is the cold expressions of his friends as they locked him up, except this time with Techno in their place. 

He can’t go back to the prison, he can’t—

He flinches back, scuttling away until he hits a wall, and Techno doesn’t look angry, just tired and sad, but all he can see is the obsidian door slamming shut—

This is the same thing that happened when Tommy arrived. Dream’s back is pressed against the same wall as before, shaking just as much. 

It’s the same thing that happened when Techno arrived, except Phil had been there to calm him down at the time. 

He hates being so afraid all the time. He’s cowering away from one of his closest friends, someone he’s come to know as something like a brother. 

Why is he so afraid? 

Because he’s a horrible person, his dark thoughts whisper to him. He’s a horrible person and he’s always known that deep down but now Techno knows too and he doesn’t know what to think or do or say—

Techno must hate him just like Tommy does, just like everyone else does. And Dream thinks he might be able to accept that if it didn’t hurt so much to think about—

He doesn’t want to be alone. Not again.

Techno relaxes his body and makes himself look a little smaller, less intimidating. He reaches out a hand and Dream hates the hesitation he sees when he flinches back. Techno never hesitates, not like this. 

“Dream, please. I’m not mad.”

He wants to believe that, to reach out and let Techno comfort him, but he can’t. 

He sees Tommy standing on that bridge in the nether, staring into the lava, looking more relaxed than he ever did in the many days before that. He sees the protectiveness for his family that Techno has shown time and time again except this time he’s protecting Tommy against Dream—

Techno takes another step and Dream flinches again, one hand coming up to grip his hair, hiding part of his face. He realizes he’s crying. He hasn’t stopped crying since he woke up and he’s so tired of it. 

Techno sighs and lets his hand drop. 

“I know you did bad things, we all have, and I’m not saying that what you did to Tommy doesn’t matter but you’re not that person anymore. You’ve gone through just as much as he has and you deserve a second chance.”

A second chance. 

Dream never gave Tommy a second chance. No matter how many times he begged to go back to L’Manburg, Dream never let him. 

He’s never given anyone a second chance. Why does he deserve a second chance when he denied the same thing to so many others? 

Is he really even a different person? If he wasn’t so terrified of the prison, would he keep making the same mistakes he always has? 

Who’s to say he wouldn’t do it all again? 

Why does Techno care about him so much? Why does he keep trying to see the best in Dream despite everything he’s done? 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

Phil keeps trying to make him happy and Techno keeps protecting him from everything and everyone and he doesn’t deserve any of it but they keep treating him like he does—

Why do they care? 

Why haven’t they left him behind like everyone else?

Why?

Techno takes another step, so close now that he could reach out and touch. Dream tenses and looks anywhere but at his face. 

“Why d-don’t you ha-ate m-me?” he murmurs brokenly.

He sees Techno pause. 

There’s a moment of silence where Dream’s mind goes wild imagining all the things he could possibly say. 

But none of his thoughts could prepare him for what Techno actually says. 

“Because you’re my brother.”

Dream snaps his gaze up to meet Techno’s, shocked. But Techno stares back with complete certainty, expressing more emotion now than Dream thinks he’s ever seen. 

He looks tired and pleading and hopeful and sad—

He looks heartbroken. 

“You’re my brother,” he says again, softer now. “And I could never hate any of my family.”

Brother—?

Family…

Dream’s legs give out on him as he collapses into Techno, who quickly wraps his arms around his brother and holds him close. 

Techno’s shirt grows damp as Dream shakes and sobs, clutching at his cape still stained with nether ash. 

Techno lowers them both to the floor, slowly rocking Dream back and forth.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”

And Dream wails. 

From his place on the couch, an unconscious Phil sleeps soundly, unaware of all the chaos going on around him.

From just outside, Ghostbur smiles obliviously as he plays with Friend, unknowingly being left behind by the same person he followed there.

And Tommy himself stomps angrily down the mountain. He pauses for only a moment when he hears Dream’s cries, a strange gleam in his eye when he looks back at the house. The discs are a heavy weight on his back.

And then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be from Tommy’s POV.   
> 💜


	19. Tommy POV Pog?

Tommy kicks a rock angrily, watching it fly into the air and land in one of the smaller pools of lava, melting out of existence.

He kicks another rock, grumbling under his breath. 

“Didn’t even let me get my shoes. Bastard…”

Techno had kicked him out so fast he wasn’t able to get any of his stuff. His trident, shoes, spare clothes, everything was left behind. He had to use the crappy extra pair of boots in the bag Techno gave him. They’re way too big and chafe at his ankles uncomfortably. 

“This sucks!”

Of course Techno would choose Dream over him. Dream has always been good at manipulating people, Tommy should know. And Techno said he’s been living there for weeks! Who knows what crap he’s put in his family’s heads already. 

He ignores the little voice in the back of his head telling him Dream is his friend, that he was only doing what was best for Tommy and everyone else—

He shakes his head and kicks another rock. Dream is not his friend! He’s just a sadistic, arrogant, manipulative, paranoid, selfish, cruel—

“Prick!” 

He kicks another rock, except this one is actually just part of the ground and he only ends up stubbing his toe.

The anger rises that much more, and he yells out a string of curses that nobody else is around to hear. 

He forces himself to keep walking, now with an aching foot. He doesn’t kick anymore rocks.

That whole act Dream put on was pathetic. He must’ve spent all his time in the prison practicing how to fake cry really well. Because why else would he be crying? The prison is huge! Three months with all that space all to himself couldn’t be that bad. He’s just trying to get people to pity him, but Tommy isn’t going to fall for it. Never again.

It’s definitely working on Techno, though. He fell for that entire act! Even when Tommy told him that—

He grumbles incoherently under his breath, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. 

The discs are in that bag. He finally has his discs back. 

It’s almost too good to believe that after all this time he finally has them again and it was so easy. 

He was expecting some great battle. Tommy and Tubbo and maybe a few other people fighting side by side against the big bad Dream to finally take him down once and for all. It would’ve been legendary!

He was almost excited when Dream disappeared. Before, with Dream locked in the prison and nobody being allowed to visit him, his discs were presumed lost forever, taken down along with Dream himself. But with Dream out of the prison and causing chaos again, Tommy had a chance to get them back. 

He even brought the idea up with Tubbo, how they could restore peace if they went out and killed the source of all their problems, Dream. Tommy would have his discs, Tubbo would gain the respect of everyone, and they could rule L’Manburg, and maybe even the Greater SMP too, together. 

He expected Tubbo to be just as excited as he was. But his best friend looked horrified. He tried to tell Tommy that they never should have put Dream in the prison in the first place, that they completely screwed up his mind, that they were needlessly cruel. 

“Fundy told me what Dream was like when they pulled him out,” Tubbo said, one hand over his heart as he stood tall in that suit he insisted on wearing. He looked so much like Schlatt it was painful. 

Tommy was happy for Tubbo, when he became president. But when he saw that suit, the first thing he could think of was just how similar to his dad Tubbo was becoming. When he was exiled, he started to wonder if Tubbo really was just like Schlatt. 

“He was so starved that they could see every single one of his bones, Tommy. He punched the obsidian so much that his hands were destroyed. Fundy was sure he had broken a few fingers. The first thing he did when he saw George was cower in fear. You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound familiar.”

Tommy was shocked at that statement. 

He remembers when Tubbo had come to let him out of exile, just before Dream was locked up. He was starving, the many days of Dream destroying his food and other belongings were not treating him well. He was waiting for Dream to show up at the time, frantically trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to hide the few things he had gathered that day. Then Tubbo accidentally snuck up on him and Tommy’s first reaction was to scream. He thought Dream had caught him breaking a rule, that he was about to be killed. But it was only a very surprised and very sad Tubbo. 

Tommy thought they had a mutual agreement to never talk about it, but apparently he was wrong. And he felt anger bubbling up inside him.

“So what? The bastard deserves to feel a little pain after what he did to me! If anything, I’d be putting him out of his misery by killing him!”

And he almost regretted his words when Tubbo gave him such a disappointed look. Almost.

“You can’t mean that.”

Tommy laughed humorlessly. “Oh I definitely mean that.”

“Don’t you see that you’re acting like Dream?”

And those are the words that made him snap. 

He’s not sure what he said after that. He knows he called Tubbo Schlatt at one point, and then they were both yelling at each other. It was a haze of rage and a sinking feeling of hurt in his gut. 

He had stormed out eventually, and Tubbo let him go without protest. He stopped by his house to pick up some things, stole a trident, and left. He found Ghostbur at the community house, and his dead brother decided to follow him around, no matter how much Tommy yelled at him to go away. 

He spent an entire day just wandering around trying to let off steam, and then he randomly remembered that his old house was in the same direction. He would have gone through the nether to get there, but he had forgotten where to go and lost his compass, so he went through the overworld instead. 

His compass. He might have lost the compass to the house, and Techno might have basically stolen all his stuff, but he still has his Tubbo compass sitting safely in his pocket. He never goes anywhere without it. It’s the one thing he refuses to lose, even now when he’s still mad at his best friend. 

He scowls. Acting like Dream. 

Of course he’s not acting like Dream! Dream is the villain! He’s everything that’s wrong in the world. He’s the reason everything is so screwed up. Tommy and Dream are nothing alike. 

Sure they’ve both stolen things but everyone does that! And sure they both technically helped Wilbur but that was only because Dream was allied with Pogtopia for a while. And Dream was the one who gave Wilbur the tnt, not Tommy! And sure Tommy is trying to take advantage of Dream while he’s weak, but that’s only because Dream did it first! That’s just karma. And maybe he was overjoyed to see Dream get thrown in prison because it meant Dream would finally get to feel what it’s like to be completely isolated from everyone, but that’s just more karma. 

Tommy is not acting like Dream. If anything, he’s more like Wilbur. Strong, confident, loyal to his people! At least, before he went insane and destroyed everything. But Tommy isn’t going to think about that. 

“Tubbo isn’t always right,” he mutters as he stomps past a bastion. 

Tubbo didn’t even see Dream himself! He was just repeating what Fundy told him! For all he knows, Fundy could’ve been lying! Dream seemed fine when Tommy saw him, anyway. Maybe he was a little bit thinner, but Tommy has never seen him without a mask and weapons before so it’s probably just because of that. 

At least now Tommy has his discs. The plan was to kill Dream and take them himself, but the guy just handed them over. He’d still like to kill Dream for the other stuff he did not just to Tommy but to Wilbur too. 

Where before Wilbur had been a solid presence in his life, a rock to cling to when it got stormy, now he’s gone. The memories he has of Wilbur before he died are tainted. Everyone always remembers him for his insanity. When people think of Wilbur, they think of tnt and fire, his crazed laugh as he watched L’Manburg fall. They don’t know what Wilbur was like before that.

He was kind and compassionate, but also dedicated and courageous. He was a natural leader, always putting other people’s needs before his own. When he walked into a room, everyone turned their heads to watch him. 

But more than that, he was a good brother. 

He would sing Tommy songs to help him fall asleep, the gentle strums of his guitar drifting throughout the house. He would always be the loudest one in the crowd when he cheered Techno on during his tournaments, bringing so much energy and enthusiasm with him that everyone around him couldn’t help but be just as loud. Phil told him that when Tubbo still lived with them, Wilbur would often go without sleep for days trying to care for the kid when Phil couldn’t, and even as the bags under his eyes grew darker, never once did his smile waver. 

When Wilbur adopted Fundy, he was so happy he cried for days. He would do everything with that kid. They would go fishing and play in the forest and work together to make the most horrible dinners Tommy has ever eaten, laughing their asses off when he choked on the burnt food. They had so much fun.

Tommy remembers when Phil used to take them all to the giant mushrooms near the house. They didn’t go often, but when they did it was magical. Phil would fly up and lie down on top of the biggest mushroom he could find, and they would all spend half their time just trying to climb up to reach him. And when Techno and Tommy got bored and climbed back down, sometimes Wilbur would stay up there. The sun would go down, the stars would come out, and the two of them would just talk about this and that for hours. Tommy has never heard Wilbur laugh as hard as he did on those days, and the sound still rings in his head even now. 

Of course everything wasn’t perfect. Wilbur had nightmares pretty often, and even though he never told Tommy what they were about, he knew by the way his eyes would be so dull in the mornings that they really bothered him. And with three kids to take care of, Phil didn’t spend a lot of time with Wilbur, too busy taking care of the more energetic Tommy or the knife-wielding Techno. When they moved to a new house in the Greater SMP, Wilbur spent more time away from the house and his family. He distanced himself from everyone, even his son, and even though he still smiled, it was like that spark he had was a little less bright. 

Tommy hated seeing his brother like that. He tried everything he could to cheer him up, but it was like the more he tried to be happy, the less happy Wilbur became. 

And then he made a van, and asked Tommy to join him. 

He was skeptical about the whole thing at first, but the way that Wilbur smiled at him then, it was like that spark was back. For the first time in months, he thought he was looking at the real Wilbur again, the one he knew and loved. 

He didn’t realize it was a different kind of spark until it was already too late. 

And now Wilbur is gone, leaving Tommy behind with only a void in his place. 

Sure there’s Ghostbur, but it’s not the same. Ghostbur is happy all the time, always cheerful and innocent like he used to be before L’Manburg. Except he’s so different. 

Ghostbur doesn’t play on his guitar anymore. He smiles and laughs but he doesn’t truly understand like the real Wilbur would. He forgets things that shouldn’t be forgotten and he’s so much quieter and he spends so much time with that stupid sheep—

Wilbur is dead. 

The spark is gone. 

Tommy hates that he feels so alone.

And it’s all Dream’s fault.

If Dream never allied with Pogtopia, if he didn’t encourage Wilbur to do all the things he did, if he didn’t make all that tnt just so he could goad Wilbur into destroying everything, then Tommy could’ve helped his brother. He would have seen what was happening sooner and stopped it. 

If it weren’t for Dream, it would’ve taken Wilbur far longer to destroy L’Manburg. If it weren’t for Dream, Wilbur would have been in that ravine with Tommy when Phil arrived, not in that damn room. If it weren’t for Dream, Wilbur would still be alive.

For that, there’s no way Tommy is going to let him go. Dream deserves everything that’s coming to him, one way or another. 

Tommy is going to make sure of it.

Tommy stares down at the discs in his hands distantly. One green, one striped purple and white. Cat and Mellohi. 

It’s so unreal, having them in his hands now after all this time. 

He ignores the distant feeling of disappointment. He was expecting a fight, excited for it even, and to get them back in such an anti-climactic way…

He should be happy! And he is. He’s definitely happy to have them back. 

This means he won. All the wars that started because of these discs are over now. He won and these discs prove it. 

Dream doesn’t have any leverage over him now. Tubbo is back in L’Manburg, surrounded by people who look up to and respect him, safe. And Tommy might be on his last life, but Dream is so committed to his act that he runs away and cowers whenever Tommy so much as looks at him. 

It’s an odd tactic. Dream was so determined to control Tommy in any way possible, but now it looks like he’s doing the complete opposite. Dream might have turned Techno against him, but Tommy has free reign now. And Dream might have also turned Tubbo too, but Tommy is confident that they’ll make up eventually. They always do. 

He’s not sure what Dream has to gain from this. Although that’s not saying much since Tommy never really seems to understand any of Dream’s motives. The guy is a mystery, and he stays that way on purpose. 

Even if Tommy doesn’t have everything he’s ever wanted, he at least has his discs. And that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?

He fought so hard for this. He did everything he could to keep them from getting destroyed, even if he had to grovel and beg and starve to do it. He was at the bottom of the food chain not too long ago, and now look at him! He clawed his way to the top all on his own, and now he has his discs back!

He’s proud of himself for getting this far. This is proof that he can do things without anyone’s help! He doesn’t need his dad or his brothers or even Tubbo to do things for him! 

The discs he holds in his hands now are there because of him and him alone. 

“You got what you wanted, right?”

The fire crackles and a half-burnt log falls off the rest and lands on the bottom of the fire with a spray of ash. Tommy shakes himself out of his thoughts and stuffs the discs back into the bag for safe keeping. He shifts closer to the fire, shivering slightly.

He travelled through the nether for an entire day before he got tired of the overwhelming heat and made a portal to get back to the overworld. It’s much nicer here, although it’s nighttime now and it’s only getting colder. 

At least he doesn’t have to wear those stupid boots anymore. Stepping on twigs and rough gravel with his bare feet is way better than giving himself giant blisters the size of slime balls. 

He’s already decided he’s going to travel the rest of the way in the overworld. It might take way longer, but an entire day in the nether is enough to last a lifetime. He’s not interested in staying there any longer. It’s easier for him to navigate through the overworld anyway. As long as he sticks to the same direction, he should be fine. 

And screw Techno anyway. He doesn’t have to use the ‘obvious path’ like a pussy. He can find the way home all on his own! 

But first, he’s going to rest here by the fire. He left the portal he made behind a while ago, and now he’s nestled somewhere between a cliff and a spruce forest. The cliff at least offers some protection, although he can hear the rattling of bones and groaning of zombies deeper into the forest. He set up the little tent he found buried at the bottom of the bag to at least offer some protection. Mobs aren’t particularly smart, so he should be fine for now. 

It feels so similar to his exile, huddling under the blankets in his tent for any semblance of warmth. He would see shadows passing by and he would hold his breath every time, waiting for a spider to tear through the walls of his tent or a creeper to explode and ruin everything. 

He wasn’t used to being on his own back then, outside and exposed to the elements. He always had his dad or his brothers or Tubbo to give him courage and they would fight off the mobs together. But during his exile he was truly alone for the first time in his life that he could remember. 

It was terrifying.

The mobs never destroyed his tent. They were too stupid for that. No, it was Dream who took up that job. 

Still, every time an enderman walked by or a skeleton fired an arrow in the distance, he would feel a spike of fear.

It seems so childish now. It’s only now that he’s free to go wherever he wants that he’s realized the real monsters aren’t the mobs that roam the world at night but the people who roam the world when the sun is up. 

Now he knows, and he isn’t afraid of sleeping alone in a tent anymore. No, he’s afraid of Dream finding him and asking him so nicely to drop everything in the hole. He’s afraid that when he closes his eyes, he’s going to wake up back there like he never left. 

It’s only now, as he stares into the crackling fire and listens to the wolves howling from so far away, that he can admit it to himself. 

He’s afraid. 

He misses his brothers. He misses Tubbo.

He misses how things used to be, before all this crap. Back when they all lived on that mountain in the middle of nowhere, one big happy family. 

He falls asleep with his knees to his chest, arms wrapped firmly around them. It’s such a familiar position, and he hates that it’s so difficult to sleep any other way. 

He falls asleep with an ache in his heart that won’t ever go away.

Tommy stands on a hill above L’Manburg. He’s standing beside a bench, the same bench that Tubbo and him always go to. It’s their bench, and his heart aches looking at it.

Tubbo isn’t here now. He’s not sure where Tubbo is, probably off doing important president things. Tommy is left here, all alone.

He has his jukebox though, and the soothing melody of Cat drifts from it. 

He turns to look out at L’Manburg. It’s dark out, so the lanterns flying high over the docks cast a calming glow. The waves lap at the shores, bright coral twisting under the surface of the waves. 

It’s quiet out. Everyone is probably asleep, leaving only a sleepless Tommy and his thoughts. 

He sits down, enjoying the comfortable space on his half of the bench. But something is missing. He can’t shake the feeling that there should be someone else with him. It feels cold and empty on his own.

He blinks and suddenly L’Manburg looks different. It’s light out now, and there’s a festival. People happily bustle around, joking and having fun. 

Tommy wants to join them, but something tells him he wouldn’t be welcome there. They seem happy, and he would hate to ruin that. So he just sits back and watches. 

He blinks and it changes again. He sees a stage where a man with a pair of curling horns and wicked eyes stands tall and proud, animatedly giving a speech that Tommy can’t hear from his place so far away. 

When he looks at this man, all he feels is fear and disgust, jealousy, hatred. He can’t put a name to the face, even though it’s on the tip of his tongue. 

He feels the urge to run. He wants to keep running until he’s far, far away. 

He feels the phantom warmth of a hand in his, the distant echo of someone telling him to keep up, to just keep running, you can make it I know you can—

He blinks and this time he sees a very large man with long pink hair and a flowing red cape on the stage. He’s aiming a crossbow at someone else trapped in a box. He can’t see either of their faces. 

He sees the horned man again, shouting something. He’s trying to get the other guy to shoot, just shoot, and the person in the box sounds so scared—

Tommy feels fear, the urge to rush in and help. If he could just make it there in time maybe he can block the shot—

He blinks and now there’s a huge crater where L’Manburg once stood. Everything is destroyed. Market stalls are crumbling, houses are burning down, rocks are tumbling down into the pit that consumes everything. People are crying, some are shouting, many have their swords out, ready to attack an enemy that isn’t there. 

He sees a hole. He sees a man with wings run a sword through another man’s stomach and they both fall so fast—

He blinks, and now he’s not on the bench anymore. He’s in a ravine. It’s dark and cold and he hates it here. He sees a potato farm with wilted crops and winding, rickety stairs that could collapse at any second. He sees words etched into a wall that he can’t make out. 

Buttons stick out of the walls. Every inch of the place is covered in them, even the ceilings and floors. 

He hears singing in the distance, echoing through the empty, abandoned place. It brings tears to his eyes, but he doesn’t know why. 

He blinks and he’s in a dark room, people covered in armor moving around him quietly. There’s a man in the front with a colorful crown on his head, and he leads them through the door. Chests sit on the floor, each one labeled. There’s a button in the center of the floor, and Tommy watches himself press it. 

The wall opens up, and out comes another man in green, a white mask over his face. He has a sword in hand. 

He hears screaming, and he wonders if the sound is coming from him. 

He blinks and he’s in a tent. It’s cold and dark here too, rain pouring down and seeping into the flimsy attempt at shielding himself from the elements. He huddles under the covers of his bed instinctually, his bare feet close to freezing off. He hears laughing, and he feels simultaneously happy and terrified. 

He blinks and now he’s holding a bow. An arrow goes flying but never finds its mark. A man in green holds his own bow, his arrow already aimed for Tommy’s stomach and he’s too slow to move out of the way. It races towards him and he can do nothing but tense and wait for the impact. 

He blinks and it’s light out again. He’s standing in front of a humble little house. It would be nice and cozy, a welcoming place to stay, if it weren’t for the massive fire consuming it. The flames lick at his face and he feels first satisfaction and then regret. There’s someone else with him, but he doesn’t know who.

He blinks and he’s standing in a clearing in front of a house. Bodies and blood litter the ground, a gruesome scene that makes his stomach churn. The door to the house is open, and inside he sees the winged man again, and someone else in green. 

He sees his face and it feels weird and terrifying. He’s holding a trident and he feels powerful, bloodlust, the urge to get revenge. 

He blinks and he’s standing in a doorway, the large man in the red cape blocking him from the rest of the house. He’s saying something that Tommy can’t hear, even though they’re right in front of each other. 

He feels anger, betrayal, loneliness, yearning for comfort. 

He blinks.

He’s sitting on the bench again. Softly glowing lanterns float through the sky, rising higher and higher. The waves below the docks are gentle tonight. He feels at peace here. 

Mellohi is playing from the jukebox. 

Dream sits by his side, his face obscured by his iconic mask, except there’s a big crack running through the center. It looks like it could shatter at any moment. 

This feels wrong. Someone else should be sitting here with him. Why is Dream here?

Tommy doesn’t speak, but Dream seems to hear his thoughts anyway. 

“I just thought you could use the company.”

He doesn’t look at Tommy when he says it. Or maybe he does, he can never be sure with that mask over his face, but Dream keeps his face turned away, looking out over L’Manburg. His hair sways a bit in the light breeze, the rest of him completely still, like a statue. 

“I don’t need company.”

Tommy blinks, and now the crack on Dream’s mask is bigger, beginning to spiderweb out. 

“Yes, you do.”

Tommy can’t really disagree. It’s lonely here, all by himself. But it doesn’t feel much less lonely with Dream here. Someone else should be here. He can’t think of their name. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” he says, the cracks growing bigger.

For a moment, Tommy sees a different Dream cowering away from him, shaking and crying and pleading. He hears stuttered apologies flowing from his mouth that only serve to make him tighten his grip on the trident in his hand—

“What are you sorry for?”

Mellohi repeats from the beginning, even though he doesn’t remember hearing it end in the first place. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Tommy. I never meant for it to get this bad.”

And something about this apology doesn’t sit right with him, but he doesn’t know why. He sounds sincere, guilty even. 

The cracks grow bigger, almost reaching the edges of his mask. That seems meaningful, but Tommy is so hopelessly lost that there’s no way he can begin to figure it out.

“For what to get this bad?”

The cracks cover his entire mask, packed so tightly together that they almost completely cover the smiley face. Dream reaches up and pulls the mask off. Tommy watches it turn to ash in his hand, flying away on the wind.

Dream turns to him, and Tommy gets a good look at his face. 

A huge scar races from the side of his forehead, over both his eyes and the bridge of his nose, down to the edge of his jaw below his ear. The piercing green, calculating gaze is gone.

In its place is a pair of milky white, unseeing eyes. 

“For this,” he says simply.

Tommy jolts awake with heaving lungs, desperately drawing in air. Sweat drips down his face as he tries not to vomit. 

He really wants his dad, his brothers, anyone. It’s so lonely without them to help him and reassure him and he misses them so much.

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out. Just like Techno taught him. In, hold, out. 

Explosions dance in the darkness of his closed eyes. He hates tnt so much—

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

Tommy pries his eyes open, his panic pushed to the back of his mind for now. He’s still under his tent. The fire has gone out, now only a pile of smoldering ash. His bag sits by his side, and he can see the edges of his music discs barely peeking out. 

Everything is fine, he reminds himself. 

“Stop being a drama queen,” he mutters under his breath, ignoring the raspiness of his voice. 

Pushing himself up off the ground, he tiredly starts packing everything away again. Even though it’s still dark out, there’s no way he’s falling back asleep anytime soon, so he might as well get walking.

The tent is folded up and stuffed in the bag, the remains of the fire is stomped out, he takes one last look to make sure he has everything, and then he’s gone.

Tommy is walking again. 

It’s a new day and a new forest. This time he’s surrounded by oak trees instead of spruce, and it’s nice being able to rest on some of the big, low-hanging branches whenever he gets tired. 

He’s coming up on a village now. It looks like a nice place, not quite as big as the one near his dad’s house, but not tiny either. He sees an iron golem lumbering around and a few cats darting between houses. 

He figures he might as well check it out, maybe trade those awful boots in for something else. 

As he steps onto the cobblestone path, he sees the village in more detail. There are flowers lining practically every window and scattered around every front lawn. There’s a pen full of very colorful sheep, even one that looks almost like Friend. There are little paintings on the sides of some of the houses, obviously made by a bunch of kids because they look more like a splattering of random colors and weird shapes than actual paintings. And there’s a big golden bell in the center of the place that Tommy can’t help but tap a few times as he passes, just to hear the soft ringing. 

He finds a market stall pretty easily and barters with the guy there for a few minutes. Sadly, he doesn’t get rid of the boots, but he does manage to get a new pair of shoes in his size and it only cost two pieces of leather and some string. The blacksmith, on the other hand, does take the boots, and in exchange he gives Tommy a few emeralds, which he immediately spends on some fresh rabbit stew and warm bread. 

He sits himself down on the well near the center of the village and stuffs his face with the delicious food. His bag might already have food in it, but it’s all stale, plain bread and cold baked potatoes. Nothing beats a bowl of warm stew! Even just smelling the stuff gives him so much more energy.

The bowl goes empty quickly, and he sets it aside to give back to the lady at the stall later. For now, he leans back against the wooden beam holding up the roof of the well and eats his bread peacefully. 

It’s nice being around people again. It’s so much easier talking to humble farmers and blacksmiths and merchants than anyone in the Greater SMP. There’s no talk about war or who betrayed who, no looming sense of urgency or fear. Tommy might like to stay in a place like this forever if it wasn’t so boring. And anyway, he would miss Tubbo too much. 

He can practically feel the compass burning a hole through his pocket. 

Surely Tubbo will see the error of his ways when Tommy presents him with the discs! He might not have succeeded in killing Dream, but he didn’t come back empty handed! And anyway, Tubbo did say he didn’t want Tommy to hurt Dream, so technically this is the best thing that could’ve happened for both of them!

They can go up to their bench again and play the music they haven’t heard in so long. Finally, there will be peace. 

So why can’t he shake the feeling that Tubbo won’t be happy to see him? 

He pops the last piece of bread in his mouth and idly watches the villagers go about their days.

He sees the blacksmith melting down Tommy’s boots, writing in an old, worn out journal as he goes. He keeps track of the metal, but most of his attention is on the woman tending to the flowers across the street. Whatever he’s writing, every time he looks at her it’s like he forgets anything else exists, his pen nearly falling out of his hand several times. The one time she glances up and sees him staring, he turns bright red and looks away in embarrassment. 

He sees a very old lady carefully rearranging the books in her store, helped out by a much younger girl who acts like she doesn’t want to be there, but only so the old lady can get a kick out of teasing her. Whenever the old lady isn’t looking, he sees her smiling so gently.

He sees a bunch of kids running around getting into trouble. There’s a group of three boys playing hide and seek, although the delighted squeals they make tend to give themselves away quickly. There’s a bunch of girls playing as knights, with one girl as the queen and another as an assassin trying to pretend-kill her. The knights dutifully protect their queen, and a more complex storyline branches out from there. Tommy can barely keep track of it all.

There’s so much life here. Every odd little piece of the place tells a story, and for a few minutes Tommy is content to get lost in the possibility of it all. 

This is what he wanted L’Manburg to look like. It’s what Wilbur wanted and never achieved. It’s what Phil tried to cultivate, only to watch it collapse right under him. It’s what Tubbo keeps trying to grasp, but can never quite reach. It’s what Dream always claimed he wanted. 

Tommy scowls. Dream said he wanted peace just like everyone else, but did he ever work towards getting it? Did he put his blood, sweat, and tears into building something safe for everyone to enjoy? No, he didn’t. He destroyed everything instead because he couldn’t handle something being out of his control.

Tommy has been dealing with the chaos his entire life! There hasn’t been a single day that he remembers ever feeling in control. Sometimes he feels powerful, invincible even, but never in control. 

Maybe Dream is just the opposite. Maybe he’s always felt in control, and to have something go against that for the first time drove him insane. 

He sees all these smiling, happy people and he wonders how much it would take for them to snap just like Schlatt or Wilbur or Dream. How many days of things not going their way does it take to make someone into a killer?

Normally, Tommy wouldn’t be thinking about this sort of thing. He’s had such a rough life recently. He’s been burned so many times. Sometimes it feels like he’s right on that edge, like if he makes one mistake then suddenly he’s the next Dream. Sometimes he says or does something and people give him horrified looks and he worries that he’s not on that edge anymore, that he’s already fallen like his brother before him. 

He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

His brother is dead, and his ghost still haunts Tommy to this day. His other brother doesn’t want him anymore, he’s too much of a nuisance. The last time he saw his dad before recently was months ago. His own best friend, the person he’s been with practically his entire life, the one person who never leaves, hasn’t bothered to find him in weeks. 

It’s starting to feel like he’s being abandoned all over again, except this time there’s no one to blame but himself.

No! It can’t be him! All of this has to be because of Dream somehow, even if he can’t see it clearly. Dream has been manipulating Tommy since the beginning. This has to be another grand scheme or something. 

It has to be…

A hand brushes against his shoulder and Tommy jolts, whirling on the person he didn’t notice sneaking up behind him.

It’s a young boy, probably only a year or two younger than Tommy. His fluffy blonde hair practically glows in the sunlight, highlighting the many freckles covering his tan face. Kind blue-green eyes lock with his own. 

The boy smiles and gives a small wave, which Tommy hesitantly returns. He’s not really in the mood to be loud right now. 

The boy holds out a small lump wrapped in cloth, and Tommy takes it, turning it over in his hands curiously. 

“What’s this—“ he begins, only to look up and realize the boy is already walking away, throwing another wave over his shoulder before he disappears entirely.

—supposed to be…”

Tommy has no idea what’s going on. He stuffs the lump in his bag and swiftly gets up with a big stretch. He takes the empty bowl, returns it to the lady at the market, and heads on his way again. 

It’s only when he’s setting up his tent for the night hours later that he realizes he forgot all about the strange gift and stops halfway through his work to plop down by the fire and actually look at it. 

He puts the thing in his lap and unwraps the cloth. 

Inside, the first thing he sees is a note. Feeling a bit more energetic than earlier, he reads it out loud.

“Saw you looking sad earlier and decided to try and cheer you up! Hope this helps. Love, Sun.”

There’s even a little smiley face in the corner of the paper with lines coming out of it like a kid’s drawing of the sun. 

He looks down at what else is in the cloth. 

There’s a big sweet berry muffin that makes his mouth water just looking at it. He peels the paper away to start munching on it as he looks at the rest of his stuff. It tastes just as good as it looks.

There’s also a brand new journal. It’s obviously hand-made but it’s well crafted. There’s even a design that looks like a bunch of flowers and bees etched onto the front and a little clip with a pen attached so he doesn’t lose it. It looks like something Tubbo would love to have, and he ignores the ache in his heart at the thought. When he flips through, he finds flowers pressed between the pages, staining them all kinds of colors. He closes the journal and balances it on his knee for now. 

There’s a handful of emeralds that he quickly pockets so he doesn’t lose them, some bright red mushrooms, random feathers, and—

And a clump of blue wool. 

It’s such a simple thing. It shouldn’t mean anything at all. But Tommy can’t help but be reminded of Friend, that dumb sheep that Ghostbur is so fond of dragging everywhere he goes. He’s reminded of the blue that he hands out to everyone constantly, whether it be in the form of a stone or wool or a flower. As long as it’s blue, Wil finds it and gives it out like candy.

He misses Ghostbur. Hell, he even misses Friend. 

Even if Ghostbur is nothing like Wil used to be, even if every time Tommy sees that gentle smile he’s reminded of everything he lost, he finds that it’s even more painful without them here with him. 

There’s no mindless chatter and stupid jokes to fill the silence. There’s no soft wool to comb his fingers through when his thoughts get too loud. There’s no reassurances, no comfort, no one to lean on when he really needs it.

He thought he was used to being alone after all that time in exile. But even in exile, he was rarely ever actually alone. Ghostbur was almost always there with him, and when he wasn’t then Dream was.

He hates to admit it, but even when Dream was being a nasty, horrible person, he still spent time with Tommy. They went mining together and traveled through the nether a few times, and Dream even let him borrow his trident. 

He hates that he still remembers those moments just as clearly as everything else because those were some of the few times he was happy. He hates that out of everyone who claimed they wanted to visit him, Dream was the only one who followed through. 

He hates that, no matter how much he wants to kill Dream for everything he did, he can’t forget the moments he considered Dream a friend.

But Dream isn’t here now. Neither is Ghostbur or Friend or anyone else. He’s all alone, and that’s what he hates more than anything else.

The blue wool isn’t as soft as Friend, but when he squishes it, it makes him feel just a tiny bit better. 

He reluctantly puts the wool and mushrooms and feathers in the bag. The remains of the muffin are thrown into the forest. He hurries to finish setting up the tent before it gets dark, grabs the journal, makes himself comfortable, and starts writing.

Over the next few days, Tommy writes down everything. 

He jots down random things he sees while he’s travelling, the villages he finds and the people he meets there, funny things that the wild animals do. Anything that holds his attention for more than a few seconds ends up in the journal. 

It helps him feel better. It organizes his thoughts and sense of time in a way he hasn’t had in years. 

Phil had given him a journal like this when he was younger for the same reasons, but he was so young at the time that he immediately got bored of it after only a few hours. Now that he’s older and his thoughts are slowly tearing him apart from the inside, it’s a lot less boring. 

He starts writing down his thoughts, random ideas he comes up with or funny jokes he doesn’t have anyone to tell to. He has a lot of fun filling an entire page with doodles of some really obscene stuff that would probably make Bad faint if he saw it. He even draws a little Skeppy in there too, and he ends up laughing for a solid three minutes just from that. 

Eventually he starts noting down things for Tubbo. He makes a note every time he finds a bee, and names every single one. The names he comes up with range from average, everyday names to fart jokes to obscure references that only the two of them would ever understand. He jokingly calls every sheep he sees Friend and anything with a pair of horns is referred to as Schlatt. 

It’s therapeutic in a way, to make light of something that’s caused him so much pain. It’s definitely a lot easier to talk about Schlatt when he’s referring to a wild goat that tripped over itself and fell down a mountain. He thought that was hilarious. 

The more he writes about his thoughts, the more he writes about the deeper stuff. 

He describes in great detail everything that he’s gone through from the very beginning. Everything that’s memorable anyway. 

He writes about what it was like living on the mountain. He describes Wilbur’s slow descent deeper into his own mind. He jots down everything he can remember about the van, the revolution, Pogtopia, the wars, his exile, watching Dream get put in prison, finding him again weeks later, and everything in between. It’s mostly just a huge jumble of notes by the end as he struggles to remember which days were which and how the timeline all lines up. He’s pretty sure he gets most of it.

After that, he writes about the people he knows. He starts with the people he doesn’t know much about, like Ant, Ponk, Sam, and Skeppy. He works his way up from there, gradually writing more and more for each person, until finally he gets to his family.

He writes about his dad, Phil, who’s been there since the beginning. He talks about Phil’s wings and his cool sword and how he always tries his best even when things get rough. He always tries to do what’s right and help those in need, no matter the consequences. 

Tommy even tries to draw his wings in the corner of the page, and even though they don’t look anything like the real thing, they’re not bad, and he’s proud of himself for that.

He writes about Techno, who’s technically the middle child but always acted like the oldest. He describes Techno’s sword and crown and cape, how epic he looks when he’s cutting down enemies left and right. He’s always so strong, willing to protect his family even at the cost of his own life. 

He writes about Wilbur. It’s hard to write about Wilbur, especially when his hands shake and his eyes decide that it would be a great time to start leaking all over the place. He doesn’t cry though! He’s not a baby!

He does get very close to crying though, a few times…

He fills up several pages with just Wilbur, and tries to draw his likeness beside the words. He gets halfway through drawing a guitar before he has to force himself to stop and take a deep breath, wiping at his eyes. 

But most of all, he writes about Tubbo. 

He spends hours and hours just talking about Tubbo, filling up page after page after page. He stays up late into the night pouring over every joke, every encounter, every embarrassing childhood moment he can think of. 

It gets so ridiculous that at a certain point he finds that he’s used up nearly half the journal just talking about Tubbo and forces himself to move on. 

(He does leave a few extra pages empty though, just in case.)

Day or night, sun or rain, he writes constantly. It helps with the ache in his chest that yearns for company. It’s calming, too, in a way he didn’t expect. It gives him purpose, something to work towards. His goal is to fill up every page eventually, and with the way he’s going through probably ten pages a day or more, he figures it won’t take very long. 

It’s as he’s writing all of this though, that he slowly starts to realize some things. 

He realizes that there’s a lot of people he hasn’t talked to lately, people he used to call friends. He realizes that the reason they don’t talk to him anymore is because he pushed them away.

He didn’t mean to, honestly! It’s just that, after he came back from exile, everyone treated him differently. Some people would see him as some fragile, traumatized thing that could break at any moment. Others would watch him carefully from a distance, either waiting for some kind of outburst or just trying to give him space to work things out on his own. 

He hated it. He wanted things to go back to normal, but he failed to realize that normal never existed in the first place. He wanted people to stop giving him looks of pity all the damn time. 

It’s only now that he really thinks about it that he realizes none of them had any better of an idea of how to make things better than he did! Everyone is just wandering around like headless chickens all the time, never knowing where to go or what to do outside of the next war to fight or country to destroy. Everyone is just as clueless as him.

It really puts a new perspective on things, knowing that literally everyone is an idiot. Everything makes so much more sense!

Why did Eret betray L’Manburg? Because he’s an idiot.

Why did Dream refuse to leave people alone? Because he’s an idiot.

Why did Sapnap kill everyone’s pets? Because he’s an idiot. 

They’re all just a bunch of idiots! And even if that means Tommy is too, he’s fine with that. Because technically, if everyone else is an idiot too, then he’s of average intelligence! Being average isn’t so bad. It’s better than being below average at least. 

Tommy writes down all this and more, making a very long list of all the stupid things people have done. He even marks a few of them as extra stupid, just because they really are that dumb.

It’s as he gets closer and closer to L’Manburg that he starts to run out of pages. He furiously jots down all his feelings on returning to L’Manburg, his expectations on how people will react once he’s back, and more. By the end of the day his hand is really starting to hurt. 

The discs in his bag are a constant reminder of how far he’s come, everything he’s achieved. The compass sits in one pocket and the blue wool sits in the other. He’s excited to return to his home again. 

Tommy steps foot in L’Manburg.

His clothes are in tatters, loose strips of cloth and bandages wrapped around his arms and legs to keep him warm despite the many rips and tears in his shirt and pants. The string to the bag over his shoulder snapped a while ago, so he had to make do with a combination of string and slime balls as a substitute. His hair is dirty and gross like he hasn’t showered in a while (he hasn’t). The journal is clutched in one hand, and he’s itching to write in it some more.

But he ran out of pages last night. The entire thing is filled to the brim with mindless notes and drawings, all except two empty pages at the very back. He decided to save those for a special occasion. He’s forbidden himself from writing on those last pages until he finds something really noteworthy. 

He stands there and breathes in the familiar scent of the place, taking a moment to admire it all. 

The docks, despite the fact that the reason they exist is because the old L’Manburg got blown up, only a crater in its place, are actually really pretty. Especially now, at night, when the lanterns light up the dark sky and reflect off the water below. 

It’s late enough that nobody else is out, not even the usual night owls. It’s a little disappointing. He wasn’t expecting a parade or anything, but at least a ‘hello’ would be nice. 

He can see Eret’s castle in the distance. Normally he looks at the place and can only think of it as an eyesore. But now that he’s calm and collected, he can appreciate the proud stone walls and flashing rainbow beams reaching up to the clouds.

Normally, he refuses to go anywhere near it, betrayal still a bitter taste in the back of his throat. But he knows that Tubbo has been staying with Eret lately since his old house got destroyed (again). Tubbo is still trying to rebuild, but he needed a place to sleep without getting rained on and apparently Eret was happy to take him in. 

It’s ironic that the same person who betrayed L’Manburg and got them all killed would be so kind as to offer a bed to one of those very same people. He doesn’t know how Tubbo can stand being anywhere near the guy, let alone sleep in the same castle, but nobody else has a bed to spare that’s close by, so he didn’t really have a choice. That doesn’t mean Tommy isn’t going to complain very vocally about it though.

But right now, Tommy’s only goal is to find Tubbo. 

He makes his way across the docks to the Prime Path, looking around to see if anything changed while he was gone. Surprisingly enough, everything looks pretty much the same. The buildings are all still the same, exactly how they were. There’s a few more plants than before, now that winter is turning into spring, but he can’t find any other changes besides that. 

It’s almost creepy. People are always renovating things around here. Everything is constantly changing. And now to see things so stationary is weird. 

Did everyone just decide to take a vacation? Did something bad happen? 

It feels strangely empty now. He assumed everyone was just asleep, but now he’s wondering if this entire place has just been completely abandoned. He’s not dreaming, right?

He even pinches himself to make sure, and when nothing happens he continues on his way, a bit more confused than before. 

Is Tubbo okay?

Tommy waltzes right through the front gates of the castle like he’s done dozens of times before. He knows the way to Tubbo’s room by heart, although he still has no idea which room Eret sleeps in. Does that guy even sleep at all? Doesn’t Fundy live here too? He doesn’t think he’s seen Fundy around here before. Does everyone just live inside the walls or something?

He trudges up the long, winding staircase and navigates through the frankly ridiculous amount of confusing hallways until he finally finds the right door. There’s even a wooden sign cut and painted in the shape of a bee with a big ‘T’ in the middle, clearly marking this room as Tubbo’s. 

And just as Tommy raises his fist to knock, he hesitates. 

He’s not sure why he hesitates. This is Tubbo, his best friend! He’s never hesitated to knock before, so why now?

He remembers the argument they had before he left. They both threw around some pretty heavy words. Not that Tommy regrets what he said! No way! He’s never done a single thing wrong ever in his life! 

And yet…

He remembers the hurt look on Tubbo’s face, the way the scar on the side of his face stretched as Tommy called him Schlatt, the way his expression twisted into anger. Tubbo never gets angry, and maybe part of the reason he wouldn’t stop arguing with his friend is because he had no idea how to apologize. He hurled accusations and insults like they were nothing even as the sinking feeling in his gut only got worse and worse. 

Tubbo didn’t stop him when he stormed out. Now, standing in front of his door weeks later, a voice whispers in the back of his head. It tells him that Tubbo hates him, that he never should have come back in the first place because Tubbo is going to reject him anyway (just like everyone else does).

No! Tommy and Tubbo are best friends! There’s no way Tubbo is still mad, not after all this time. They always make up eventually. Always. 

With that thought in mind, he pushes forward and knocks on the door. 

For a few moments, nothing happens. He worries that Tubbo might not have heard him, or even that he’s not in his room in the first place. Tubbo could be anywhere, he’s always liked to wander and start new projects and check up on everyone. He dreads the thought of having to hunt him down. It’s already hard enough just knocking on the stupid door!

And then he hears shuffling from inside and a tired hum. Footsteps make their way to the door, and Tommy straightens himself instinctually. By the time he realizes what he’s doing (Is he seriously posturing right now? In front of Tubbo of all people?), the door is already opening. 

It creaks open, and standing on the other side is Tubbo, sleepily rubbing at his eyes. He’s wearing a bright yellow bee-themed sweater that looks like the most comfortable thing in the world, and some grey pajama pants with flowers embroidered near the bottom. He wonders who put them there, maybe Niki or Eret, or even Tubbo himself. He’s never seen Tubbo take an interest in stuff like that before, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s missed a lot about his friend recently. 

There’s a moment where Tommy considers saying something, but then Tubbo glances up at him, realizing who exactly is standing in front of him. 

There’s a moment where they both stare, frozen and unsure. 

And then Tubbo’s face falls, and Tommy’s heart drops into his stomach. He can see the disappointment in his friend’s face already, the desire to end this conversation before it’s even started. 

Tubbo really does hate him, doesn’t he?

No! Tommy has to stay positive! He has to remember that they always make amends eventually. They’re never apart for too long. 

Everything is going to be fine.

In, hold, out.

“Hey Tubbo,” he starts lamely. 

Tubbo stares at him for a second, and then lets out a small sigh before stepping out of his room to close the door behind him and lean against it. Tommy takes a step back to give him room, and then they’re back to staring at each other again. 

This is so awkward…

“Is there something you need, Tommy? Y’know you could’ve waited until morning at least.” A big yawn punctuates his sentence, trying in vain to hide it behind his hand. 

Tommy would find it funny, maybe tease him a bit on any other day. But not tonight.

“Well, I don’t really need anything right now—“ he winces internally when Tubbo sighs again, slumping against the door, “—but! But I do have something to show you!”

Before Tubbo can respond, Tommy reaches into his bag and pulls out the discs, showing them off with a grin. 

Tubbo looks shocked, eyes wide and jaw slack. He unconsciously reaches out a hand, gently brushing his fingers along the Cat disc in awe, like he can’t quite believe they’re real. Tommy holds them up dutifully, letting his friend inspect them just like he did when he got them back only a week ago. 

“We finally have the discs again! I told you I’d find a way to get them back!”

Tubbo blinks. Suddenly he yanks his hand back and his shock turns into concern. 

“Tommy, how did you get these?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid of what the answer might be. 

Undeterred by his friend’s hesitance, Tommy excitedly tells the story.

“Well, I travelled all the way to Phil’s house, y’know the place on the mountain, and I found Dream there! Who would’ve thought? Anyway—“

“Tommy,” Tubbo interrupts, his tone low and almost dangerous in a way Tommy hasn’t heard before. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

Despite the red lights flashing in his head telling him to stop and think about what he’s saying, Tommy plows on. 

“What? You mean kill Dream? No, Techno got in the way and stopped me. Dream just gave these to me. I didn’t even have to trade anything for them! But you should’ve seen his face—Oh! Did you know he doesn’t wear a mask anymore?”

Tubbo stares at him incredulously, blinking a few times.   
“He just gave them to you,” he repeats, concern and doubt in his eyes. “Without trading anything.”

Tommy nods enthusiastically. 

“And what about his face?” 

“Oh! He looked terrified! I mean, it was obviously all an act but he put a lot of effort into it. Very realistic!”

And then Tubbo is staring at him again, but this time his expression is slipping into one of horror and Tommy abruptly realizes he must have said something wrong.

He remembers seeing people giving him horrified looks just like this before. He said something wrong. What was it that he said? Is Tubbo upset about him talking about Dream? What did he do wrong this time?

“Tommy,” he starts slowly, his voice shaking. “Tommy, Dream wasn’t acting.”

“What? Of course he was. He’s always pulling crap like that—“

Tubbo interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder, staring him dead in the eye. Tommy can’t even comprehend all the emotions swirling on his face, too many to count. 

“Tommy,” he says again, and he’s really getting tired of hearing his name over and over again. 

“He wasn’t acting.”

He almost goes to deny it again, to voice his confusion, but the way that Tubbo is looking at him stops him dead in his tracks. He looks so certain, not an ounce of doubt anywhere in sight. 

He remembers his walk through the nether. “Tubbo isn’t always right,” he said. But he looks so sure of himself…

And Tommy is forced to consider the possibility. If Tubbo is right and Dream actually wasn’t acting then…

“No, that can’t be right—“

Dream cowering in fear, maskless, defenseless, sobbing in a corner like a little kid. The way he pleaded and apologized over and over again.

“That’s not—“

The way he flinched and scrambled down the stairs, crashing into a wall as he ran, just to reach the ender chest downstairs and practically throw the discs at him. The wild, animalistic fear lining every inch of his body. 

That had to be an act. There’s no way that someone as untouchable and fearless as Dream could fall so far. 

That…

That was real?

Tommy shrugs the hand off his shoulder and backs up, holding the discs close to his chest. 

“I don’t believe you!” he spits, the anger from their last argument bubbling to the surface again. 

Tubbo drops his hand, his expression hardening like before. He can practically feel the rift between them growing bigger, but…

He’s had enough of doubting himself! At every turn, every decision he’s made since Wilbur first asked him to join him in that van, he’s always doubted himself. This crushing indecision only gets heavier with every passing day. He’s sick of it!

Dream tormented him every day in exile. He destroyed Tommy’s things, blew up his house, manipulated everything he did. He nearly drove Tommy to jump! 

And for a while, he even believed the guy when he said they were friends. It was only when Tubbo got him out of exile, when he saw Dream get thrown in prison, finally paying for his crimes, that he saw things clearly. 

Dream is the bad guy. He always has been! Tommy was an idiot to ever doubt that. 

And now Tubbo is standing here trying to tell him that Dream is good now, that Tommy was wrong. He’s trying to get Tommy to doubt things again, but he’s already doubted everything else. 

He can’t accept it. This isn’t how things are supposed to be.

Dream is the bad guy. He has to be.

Because if he’s not, then who’s to say Tommy isn’t wrong about everything else too? Who’s to say anything is what he thinks it is? 

Who’s to say that Tubbo is even his best friend? 

There has to be an order to things, or else everything falls apart! He’s tired of doubting!

“It’s the truth,” Tubbo insists, but Tommy isn’t listening anymore. “Dream has changed—“

“No he hasn’t! He’s still the same tyrant he’s always been!” He can feel his voice rising, echoing down the halls. If anyone else is sleeping in this castle, they won’t be for long.

Tubbo keeps his voice low and cold, refusing to yell like Tommy always does. “Dream gave you those discs because he was terrified that—“

“I earned these discs back fair and square! He’s the one that stole them in the first place! He should be fucking scared!”

“If you care about the discs so much then why are you here?!”

Tommy flinches, his mouth snapping shut. Tubbo is furious now. He snapped so quickly.

Tubbo just yelled at him.

He never yells at Tommy, not when they’re arguing, not anymore. 

When they were little kids they used to yell at each other all the time, especially when they were angry. They would scream their little heads off. But when Tubbo became president, he started getting quieter, no longer the easily excitable, loud, happy kid he used to be. It’s stressful being president. Tommy knows he wouldn’t be very good at it if their roles were reversed. 

But Tubbo doesn’t yell anymore. He raises his voice sometimes, but he never really shouts. 

Tubbo just yelled at him, and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Why are you here, Tommy?! Did you come here to gloat?! To taunt me?!”

He takes a meaningful step forward and Tommy is so shocked he backs up immediately. His heart is racing. 

“Why aren’t you out celebrating?! You have your discs so why the hell do I matter at all?!”

The beginnings of tears start pooling in Tubbo’s eyes, spilling over as he takes another step, backing Tommy against the wall. 

“You have everything you could ever want! And you clearly don’t give a fuck what I have to say! So why are you here?!”

Tubbo huffs and puffs, out of breath from all the yelling, the pure rage on his face only tempered by the tears streaming down his cheeks. Tommy’s ears ring in the sudden silence. 

His throat has gone dry, any semblance of courage gone, but he still manages to brokenly whisper his answer.

“Because you’re my best friend, Tubbo.”

And for a fraction of a second, there’s a break in Tubbo’s anger. Tommy is pleading, begging internally for this to be the end of it, for them to finally make up.

But Tubbo steps away and turns his back on Tommy. He can barely see the scarred part of Tubbo’s face over his shoulder as he sighs. 

“Yeah, I thought I was too.”

And then he swings the door open and slams it behind him. He hears the lock click into place, and then silence. 

And Tommy is left there, alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 hopefully coming soon!  
> 💜


	20. Part 2: The Dads

Tommy stares at the door in shock. 

Tubbo’s not—

He can’t—

“Because you’re my best friend, Tubbo.”

“Yeah, I thought I was too.”

This can’t really be happening. He must be dreaming right now, but no matter how much he wills himself to wake up, he stays stubbornly in this hallway, staring at the door. 

He can’t breathe.

“Is there something you need, Tommy?” 

His ears are ringing. Everything is so quiet. 

If he’s dreaming, this has to be the worst nightmare he’s ever had.

Why can’t he just wake up?!

“Don’t you see that you’re acting like Dream?”

Tommy stares at the door and he wants to knock on it so badly, wants to pound away on it until Tubbo comes back out so he can apologize, so he can beg for forgiveness. But even if Tubbo gave him a second chance, Tommy knows he wouldn’t have the guts to apologize. He never apologizes, doesn’t know how to. 

He reaches out a hand, willing himself to just knock please—

His hand hovers in front of the wood, and he can’t move any farther. 

Maybe he can just speak instead. If he can just tell Tubbo that he’s sorry then maybe—

But when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. He can’t speak no matter how much he wants to, needs to—

His feet are carrying him out of the castle before he can even think about leaving, practically tripping over himself in his need to get away—

He stumbles through the gates and blindly follows the path in front of him, gasping for air.

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out—

Tubbo hates him. He really fucked up this time. Tubbo is never going to forgive him for this. He doesn’t know how to apologize—

He collapses onto the bench, unsure of how he got here in the first place. The bag and discs are shoved to the side as Tommy grips his hair and holds his head between his knees, desperately trying to get a deep breath. 

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out—

This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This has to be a dream!

In, hold, out—

He wants his dad, his brother, anyone. He’d even take a total stranger at this point! 

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out.

He can hear Techno’s voice in his head telling him to breathe. 

In, hold, out.

In, hold, out. 

In, hold, out.

“If you care about the discs so much then why are you here?!”

Tommy scrambles up from the bench, snatching one of the discs as he goes, and frantically shoves it into the jukebox. The familiar sound of Mellohi drifts from it, and he collapses onto the bench again. 

He has his discs, so everything should be fine now! Everything was supposed to be fine! Why isn’t everything fine?!

Why does it feel like he’s dying with every second that passes where Tubbo isn’t by his side?!

He tries to focus on Mellohi, the chilly breeze, the lanterns flying high, but all he can think of is Tubbo’s back to him, slamming the door on Techno’s face, Dream running to get away from him—

Where did everything go so wrong?! Was it when Dream was put in prison?! Was it before that, when the wars started?! Was it when Wilbur first asked him to join him in that van?! 

Or was it long before that, before L’Manburg was even a vague concept in Wilbur’s head? Was it when they moved to the Greater SMP? Was it when Wilbur started getting worse?

Or was it even before that? 

Was it when Tommy first joined the family?

Is everything that’s happened up until now all just one mistake after another with the very first being letting Tommy into the house? 

Is all of this his fault?

He thought this was Dream’s fault, was so sure of it, because who else’s fault would it be? 

Was Techno right to kick him out? Was Tubbo right to turn him away? Was Dream right to be so afraid of him?

Tommy wraps his arms around his stomach and leans forward to look out over L’Manburg. His leg bounces just as rapidly as his thoughts race, and he struggles to take deep breaths. 

He tries to focus on Mellohi. It doesn’t work.

Everything was supposed to be fine. So why isn’t everything fine?

Why does everyone keep turning him away?

Why does he feel so worthless without them?

He has his discs back! They were supposed to fix everything. They were the only thing Dream had as leverage over him, the only thing that kept him from ripping the guy to shreds. They are his pride.

At first, he treasured the discs because it took so long to get them. He spent hours, days even, just trying to start a collection. He put time and effort into having them, and he was furious when they were first stolen. He was like a kid getting his candy taken away.

After that, it became a matter of pride. If everyone kept stealing from him, if it was really that easy to rile him up, then it made him look weak. He looked like a whiny baby. He needed to show everyone how strong he was. 

Over time, the discs became something else. They became blackmail, something that could be used to control him. And it worked for a long time because Tommy was too stubborn to let them go again. 

The discs are his pride, his courage, his will to keep fighting. Because when everyone abandons him, he still has his discs to fight for. 

He can’t rely on people. He learned that very early on. No, he can’t rely on people to give him that will to fight. Because people can change. They can stab him in the back, abandon him, disappear entirely.

People can die.

But discs can’t! 

The discs might not be indestructible, but they can easily last way longer than a person can! The discs can reliably be there every time.

Not like Wilbur, who died so soon. Not like Techno, who kicked him out in favor of Dream. Not like Tubbo, who hates him now.

He has his discs! That’s all that matters!

Right?

But if that’s true, then why does it still hurt so much? 

He can feel the doubt creeping in again, telling him everything he’s ever believed is so horribly wrong. But he can’t listen to that voice! There will always be things that he never doubts!

Like how Tubbo is his friend and Techno is his brother. And how Dream is the bad guy and Tommy is the good guy.

And yet…

Tubbo hates him now. Is he really still Tommy’s friend? He certainly thinks so, but would Tubbo say the same? 

And Techno rejected him. Would he still consider Tommy a brother? 

The doubt creeps in further, and he can’t stop it as it twists his memories and makes him crumble. 

He can’t do this anymore. He can’t think, can’t breathe, and he’s so sick of it. 

Everyone left him. He’s all alone. What is he supposed to do now? It’s so hard to differentiate between the lies and the truth. Is it really worth it anymore? 

If he’s such a nuisance, wouldn’t it be better if he just disappeared?

As soon as the thought comes to him, he’s violently shaking his head. He lurches to his feet and starts walking, a restless energy consuming him. 

“No, I’m not—I’m not doing that!”

He remembers looking down at the lava in the nether that day. He felt so wonderfully numb and he wanted to stay like that forever, just leave all his problems behind. He wanted to disappear. 

But he’s not doing that again! Tubbo might hate him, but Tommy knows he would be heartbroken if his friend (former or not) offed himself because of some stupid argument. He ignores the doubts trying to make him question himself. He’s not doing that to Tubbo. 

He’s pacing now, practically wearing a hole into the grass. He’s muttering to himself, but his thoughts are going so fast that he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. It’s all so confusing and he hates being so overwhelmed all the time, he hates it he hates it—

“Tommy?”

He yelps and whirls around, shocked that anyone else would be here of all places. And when he turns, he has to crane his neck to see Sam’s face. 

Even behind the creeper mask, he looks worried. He even shuffles a bit awkwardly in place as Tommy stares at him like he wants to get closer. 

“Are you okay?”

Tommy scowls. Of course he’s not okay! Tubbo hates him, Techno hates him, his dad could be dead for all he knows! And he keeps listening to Mellohi but the usually relaxing song isn’t calming him down! 

But he can’t say any of this to Sam. The guy is just asking if he’s okay. He doesn’t need Tommy’s entire tragic life story.

“I’m fine,” he mutters. He has to consciously release the tension coiled in his body, his shoulder slumping down. 

But at the same time that he’s trying to get Sam to leave, he wants him to stay. He’s been so lonely lately, and now that Tubbo is gone he really does have nobody. Sam’s company would be nice.

But Sam caught him at a bad time. All the thoughts and doubts swirling in his head are telling him not to trust anyone, because anyone can turn around and stab him in the back. 

Sam looks down on him for a few moments, considering. And then he bends down so he’s kneeling on the ground, a lot closer to eye-level now. 

Tommy can’t help but think he looks kind of like Techno with the crown and posture. There’s a kind of grace to his movements that Tommy never noticed before. Although he hasn’t noticed much of Sam before. This is their first time really talking.

“Tommy, can I see your hands, please?” Sam holds out his own hands invitingly.

And his first instinct is to say yes, not because Sam seems so kind and calm, not because he’s itching for comfort and companionship, but because he’s so conditioned to give up everything at the drop of a hat. 

“Put everything in the hole, Tommy.”

“Is that everything, Tommy?”

“It would be a shame if I had to kill you, Tommy.”

Dream’s voice echoes in his head, and he hates that the bastard still has so much power over him even now. 

But Sam is different. Dream’s voice was demanding, his tone light and friendly but his words forceful and intimidating. Sam’s voice is lower, not light but soothing, and Tommy can’t find anything but genuine concern behind his words. He’s not demanding, but asking nicely, and even if Tommy has a policy against trusting anyone, he finds that he really wants to give in to Sam’s request.

Sam isn’t Dream. 

There’s a few moments where he debates saying no, and Sam just sits there patiently, not pressuring or growing bored or anything else. He stays and waits.  
Tommy hesitantly shuffles forward and let’s Sam take his hands. 

And Sam hums and takes them carefully, like Tommy is some delicate thing that could break at any moment. But oddly enough, it actually feels nice, and he subconsciously relaxes, some of his racing thoughts and anxieties completely fading from his mind. 

Sam gently pulls Tommy closer, and he goes willingly, not looking the guy in the eyes (or the mask). He takes one hand and presses it to Tommy’s chest and the other is pressed to Sam’s chest. 

“Breathe with me, okay?”

He takes a deep breath, and Tommy can feel it. He can feel Sam’s chest rise and fall rhythmically, and he can feel his own chest doing the same, if a bit faster and more uneven. And he finds himself copying Sam pretty easily, almost without thinking about it. 

A sense of calm washes over him. It’s like him and Sam are in their own little bubble, completely separated from the rest of the world. For a few minutes, he can forget. 

Sam takes his hands again, just holding them again, and Tommy knows he should probably pull away now, but he doesn’t want to. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks again, softer this time. He rubs his thumbs along the backs of Tommy’s hands, and it gives him an odd tingly feeling like gunpowder sparking. This is the first time he’s really touched someone without some threat of violence in almost a month, so maybe that’s why it’s so weird. Or maybe this is part of Sam’s creeper side showing through. Tommy doesn’t know. 

He wordlessly shakes his head, suddenly exhausted. Today has not been a great day, and he is not okay. He hasn’t been okay in a long time, and it’s only now in this bubble Sam has created for them that he can finally admit it to himself.

He’s not okay, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Sam hums. “That’s alright. You’ve probably been dealing with a lot lately. It’s okay to not be okay.”

At any other time, in any other mindset, Tommy would disagree. He needs to be strong. He needs to carry on Wilbur’s legacy, he needs to survive Dream, he needs to talk with Tubbo. He always needs to be doing something important, and he can’t slack off just because of a few bad days. 

But right here, right now, it’s different. He doesn’t know why or how to describe the feeling. It’s just different. Here, with Sam talking to him so kindly, he thinks it might just be okay to not be okay.

Sam tugs on his hands a bit. “Here, sit down with me. It’ll be more comfortable.”

And Tommy nearly collapses to the ground, folding his shaky legs under him as Sam does the same. He still hasn’t let go, and Tommy is grateful that he hasn’t.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here if you need me.”

Does he want to talk about it? If he’s being honest, probably not. It hurts to think about anything that’s happened in the past week, and talking about it out loud is probably way more painful. But not so much with Sam here.

If it was Tubbo talking to him right now, or his dad, or Techno, or even Ghostbur, he would refuse to talk about it immediately. They know him so well, and he can already imagine the disappointment on their faces if they knew just how badly he screwed things up. But Sam is basically a stranger. They barely know each other, have never talked directly until now. And something about that makes Tommy more open and relaxed than usual. There’s a distance there that’s almost soothing, and he finds that he does want to talk. 

And Tommy realizes that Mellohi isn’t playing anymore. It probably stopped a while ago and he just didn’t notice. He’s been so focused on Sam.

There’s probably some significance there, but he’s too tired to think about it more. 

“I got in a fight with Tubbo,” he mutters eventually. “Again.”

Sam nods along, an invitation to continue that Tommy could easily refuse. But he finds that he doesn’t want to.

He ends up explaining everything from the beginning, when he got thrown into exile. And when Sam tentatively asks him for clarification, he explains everything from the very beginning, from when Wilbur made that van and even a little before that. 

He explains what Wilbur did, what Dream made him do, the discs, all the wars and betrayals, up until Dream made Tubbo exile him. He describes what exile was like, his face twisting into a sneer as he tells Sam what Dream did to him. He gets quiet as he talks about that day in the nether, how the lava ocean below him looked so warm and inviting. He talks about Tubbo finding him in exile, telling him Dream was getting arrested and he could come back to L’Manburg again.

He describes Dream getting put in prison, and he sees the way Sam winces and doesn’t spend too long on that scene. He talks about the first fight with Tubbo after Dream disappeared, the things he regrets saying. He describes his journey to his old house, hoping to find Phil there but coming across Dream instead. And he describes Techno’s protective fury, how he kicked Tommy out in favor of Dream. He describes his journey back to L’Manburg, how he wrote everything down in his journal, how he was happy to have his discs back, how excited he was to see Tubbo again. 

He gets quiet again as he talks about his second fight with Tubbo which was much shorter but so much more hurtful. And as he’s talking, he tells Sam that he knows he deserves being alone.

It comes out of his mouth accidentally. He never actually thought about it before, if he deserves this or not, but as he considers his own words, he can’t find it in himself to disagree. 

He keeps thinking about what L’Manburg would be like if Tommy never existed. Would all the wars still have happened? Would Dream have let L’Manburg be independent without protest, no revolution needed? Would L’Manburg even exist in the first place? 

If Tommy never existed, would everyone be happier?

Would Tubbo be happier?

If Tommy was never a part of Phil’s family, Tubbo never would have been given over to Schlatt. The only reason they moved to the Greater SMP in the first place was because Tommy wanted to be closer to Tubbo and everyone else, meaning they never would have moved. Techno, Wilbur, and Tubbo would all be up on that mountain, a happy little family. 

L’Manburg wouldn’t exist if not for Tommy, and that realization rips him to shreds. 

“It’s my fault,” he whispers, eyes wide and unseeing. “If I never existed, everything would be fine.”

“No, Tommy—“

Sam scoots closer, their knees almost touching. He lets Tommy’s hands drop to his lap, and he only has a second to mourn the loss when Sam reaches up and cups Tommy’s face in his hands, tilting his head up so he’s looking at Sam now.

“That is not your fault.”

He says it as softly as ever, but also sternly now. 

“But—“

Sam shakes his head. “Tommy, you are not at fault for existing, okay?”

And he opens his mouth to protest, but Sam is already talking again.

“Look, you might have made some mistakes and you might have hurt some people, but you can’t blame yourself for every little thing that’s ever happened. Wilbur created L’Manburg, Dream hurt you, I built the prison. We all have a little bit of blame to go around, but you are not at fault for existing. Never blame yourself for that.”

And Tommy hates how his voice breaks when he speaks again. 

“Who else’s fault would it be?”

If it’s not Tommy’s fault that everyone is miserable, then who? Phil for moving houses? Wilbur for making a van? Or maybe Dream for being so controlling?

He thought everything was Dream’s fault, but after tonight he’s not so sure. 

Sam sighs.

“I’m going to say something that you probably don’t want to hear. Dream is my friend, he has been for a while now, and I can tell you with certainty that he’s not as evil as you think he is. And that doesn’t excuse or justify all the horrible things he did to you or anyone else, but just know that he had his reasons for it, just like you have reasons for the things you do, even when you’re hurting people. Even as his friend, there are things that I don’t think I can forgive him for, and you don’t have to forgive him either. And that’s okay.

“All of us are people, and we make mistakes and do bad things on purpose and on accident and it’s messed up, it sucks, but in the end we’re all just people. You and Dream and Tubbo, you’re all just people. And that’s okay.”

Tommy can see the gentle smile partially covered by his mask, and any anger he might have felt would have disappeared at the sight. But he’s not angry, he’s just so tired.

“What I’m trying to say is, it’s not your fault any more than it is Dream’s fault or anyone else’s fault. I’m sure if I never existed, things around here would be a lot different too, and I barely spend any time here. Do you think you would be happier if I didn’t exist?”

Tommy immediately shakes his head. He’s glad Sam is here with him, or else he doesn’t know what he would’ve done by now. He shudders at the thought. 

“What about if Tubbo never existed? Do you think you would be happier then?”

If Tubbo never existed, then they wouldn’t have moved to the Greater SMP, so a lot of the pain he’s feeling now wouldn’t be there. He would still be on that mountain with his family, completely unaware of anything happening here. He thinks Tubbo would like that.

But at the same time, Tubbo is his best friend. They’ve been best friends for as long as both of them can remember. They support each other, give each other courage and strength. They make each other happy. 

If Tubbo didn’t exist, then Tommy wouldn’t have any of that. A piece of his soul would be missing and he would never know. That’s what scares him more than anything. 

“No,” he murmurs, because he cares about Tubbo so much, and he can’t imagine a world without him.

“Do you think Tubbo would be happier if you didn’t exist?”

And only a minute ago, he would have said yes, but now…

He knows, deep down, that Tubbo cares about him just as much as he cares about Tubbo. Sure he would be happy, living a good life on that mountain, but there would always be a piece of him missing where Tommy should be. 

He shakes his head and Sam gives him a knowing look from behind that mask.

And in that moment, he feels a spark ignite inside him. 

He cares about Tubbo so much, more than anyone else he’s ever known. And he knows he fucked up, that he hurt Tubbo not once but twice, maybe more than that. 

He was messed up and angry, but he shouldn’t have hurt Tubbo. Never Tubbo.

“You have everything you could ever want! And you clearly don’t give a fuck what I have to say! So why are you here?!”

Tommy has his discs, but that was never truly what he wanted. What he really wanted was Tubbo’s approval, his friendship and happiness. He wanted to go back to those early days when they were kids, running around and playing and causing chaos together. 

He thought the discs could help them get there again, but he was wrong.

“Because you’re my best friend, Tubbo.”

“Yeah, I thought I was too.”

He was wrong and he hurt Tubbo. 

He has to make this right.

And as the fire wells up inside him once again, not in anger but in determination, hidden deep down for so long, he realizes that he does want to keep existing, because it would be so lonely without Tubbo by his side. He needs to keep going, to be better, for Tubbo. 

He’s going to make this right, no matter what it takes. If Tubbo never forgives him, then he’s okay with that, as long as he’s happy. As long as Tubbo is happy, then Tommy is too.

He looks up at Sam, a new spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“How do I fix this?”

Sam moves his hands to Tommy’s shoulders, smiling encouragingly. 

“I’m not so sure about that myself, but I think we can figure it out. Together.”

And as Tommy listens to what Sam has to say, he finds that he doesn’t mind that Mellohi isn’t playing anymore, because right now, talking to someone he barely knows in the dead of night, this is so much more fulfilling. 

Whatever it takes, he’s going to become worthy of being Tubbo’s best friend. And then maybe they can be happy again, together.

Tubbo hears a knock on his door.

He groans and pulls the blanket over his head, hiding away from everything.

He’s exhausted. He couldn’t sleep after Tommy talked to him earlier, even if he really did try. He just curled up on his bed and tried his best to focus on anything else but the argument. 

That didn’t work very well. 

It’s almost morning now, his room gradually getting lighter as the sun begins to rise and filter through the window. He only got a few hours of sleep and he’s miserable. 

If Tommy is knocking on his door again he might just end up murdering someone. He’s definitely not in a good mood right now.

“Tubbo?”

He recognizes Eret’s voice and he groans again, this time with a different kind of grumpiness. 

He can already tell that Eret is here because he’s worried. He probably heard the yelling earlier in the night and decided to let Tubbo cool off for a while first before coming up to talk to him. 

Tubbo is already exasperated because he’s tired and grumpy and he doesn’t want to talk to anyone for the next year but he knows Eret is just worried about him and he would feel bad if he just ignored the guy who’s letting him stay in his castle but he really doesn’t want to get up—

Very reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and sleepily shuffles over to the door. He flips the lock and pulls the door open as he leans against the doorframe lazily.

Eret stands there. His usual multicolored crown is gone, probably in his room along with all his fancy clothes. He’s wearing simple pajamas now, and it’s still odd seeing him look so casual. 

Even back when Eret was part of early L’Manburg, he never really let his guard down. He always wore the uniform all of them wore, and even though he was always complaining about how itchy and uncomfortable the clothes were, he never changed into anything else. 

He always had a kind of regal posture too. He stood up straight with his head held high and his hands folded behind his back, and even when he sat he never slouched or truly relaxed. 

He took everything so seriously, never really got close to anyone, and that’s what made it so easy to betray them. They never knew him well enough to see it coming.

But now, he’s different. Eret keeps up that persona with the posture, clothes, and all more often than not, but there are moments like this too. Moments where he’ll still be standing up straight, but there’s a softness to him that is so much more obvious. Moments where he acts so much like a dad that it’s hard to remember this was the same guy that got Tubbo killed once.

He didn’t really have a choice when he started staying in Eret’s castle, and at first he hated spending time here with the same person who haunted his nightmares not very long ago. But over time, he’s found that Eret is pretty nice when he wants to be. 

He gave Tubbo his own room to personalize as he pleases, makes him meals, checks up on him to make sure he’s doing okay. He even taught Tubbo how to embroider things, and the pants he’s wearing now are proof of that. 

He doesn’t know what made Eret change so drastically. He’s almost afraid to ask, afraid to ruin the sense of peace that’s settled between them. It’s nice to have someone care for him like Schlatt was supposed to. 

He shakes the thoughts away, focusing back on the present. Even with the glasses covering his eyes and his habit of not being very expressive, he can tell Eret is watching him worriedly. 

“Are you okay? I heard yelling.”

Tubbo sighs and rubs at his eyes, slumping more against the doorframe. 

“‘M fine, just tired.” A wide yawn punctuates his sentence and his scar stretches unpleasantly.

He’s far too tired to even attempt to put everything into words. He just wants to go back to sleep. 

Normally he wouldn’t have time to sleep, too busy trying to repair buildings and convince people not to steal or set things on fire and doing so much paperwork it makes his eyes bleed. Being president is exhausting, stressful, overwhelming, far too much for his little shoulders to handle, but nobody else is willing to take over for him. 

But lately he hasn’t had much work to do. Since the news about Dream spread and Sapnap, George, Sam, and Ranboo started tearing down the prison, almost everyone else has pitched in to help. With everyone so busy working on the prison, it gives Tubbo a lot less stuff to take care of, and a lot less headaches. It’s nice to finally have a break for once. 

It means he has plenty of extra time to just sleep the day away and forget tonight ever happened. It’s better to just forget.

But Eret must see the lie in his words because he grimaces. It’s such a slight change, barely a twitch of his lips and a furrow of his brow, but Tubbo has been living with him long enough to know. 

He can tell Eret is going to say more, and he’s already dreading what it might be.

“If you don’t want Tommy to talk to you again then I can make sure he can’t get into the castle.”

Tubbo sighs. Of course Eret knows exactly who was yelling. They were being very loud, and Eret has a weird sixth sense that lets him know where everyone in the castle is at all times. It’s impossible to sneak in or out of the place as long as Eret is nearby. There’s been a few times where Tubbo tried sneaking to the kitchen for a midnight snack only to turn around and scream when he comes face to face with Eret himself, who always insists on making him an entire meal and sharing conversation. He knows Fundy has experienced something similar. He doesn’t know if Eret is a magician or if he just never sleeps, but it’s creepy as hell. 

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” 

Because as much as he’d like to bar Tommy from the castle entirely and not have to deal with him, he knows that would only make things worse. He would probably just wait for Tubbo to come out and pester him then, or he’d scream his lungs out to annoy him into coming out. It’s better to just let Tommy be Tommy, as exhausting as it is.

He doesn’t know when he started thinking of spending time with Tommy as a chore, just another thing to check off his daily to-do list. He doesn’t know if it’s because Tommy has been having so many issues lately or because Tubbo is gradually turning into his father just like Tommy said. He doesn’t know if tonight happened because of Tommy or himself. It hurts to think about, so he just prefers not to think about it.

He hates that Tommy’s words hurt him so much and yet he craves that hyperactive, crazy, hilarious person that Tommy used to be. Some part of him hopes that by letting Tommy have the ability to enter the castle, he might come back. He doesn’t want Tommy to come back, but at the same time he does. 

He doesn’t like to think about it, so he doesn’t.

Eret is still giving him that worried look and he sighs again. He knows Eret is just going to keep worrying, so he heaves himself away from the doorframe and lets him into the room.

Eret closes the door softly behind him as Tubbo collapses back onto his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers again. He throws an arm over his eyes and tries to trick his brain into thinking he’s getting rest even if he’s not sleeping. He’s so tired he might just pass out anyway.

He feels the bed dip beside him as Eret sits down, and he doesn’t have to look to know that the worried look is still there. It’s probably going to be there for a while.

A silence falls between them. Only their combined breathing and the random odd noises from the castle interrupts it. 

“I don’t regret betraying L’Manburg,” Eret says suddenly.

The statement takes Tubbo by surprise, prompting him to peek out from under his arm. He’s not surprised by the words themselves, Eret has always told people he doesn’t regret it, but he wonders why he’s bringing it up now. 

Eret is staring almost wistfully out the window, slouched over with his hands in his lap. This is the most comfortable Tubbo has ever seen him. 

“I don’t regret that at all, but there is one thing I regret.”

He looks down at his hands, fiddling with his pajama pants almost nervously. 

“The one thing I regret is hurting you and Tommy. Especially you.”

Tubbo remembers that day, when Eret led them into that room and Tommy impulsively pressed the button on the floor. He remembers the wall opening up, how Dream and the rest sprung out, decked out in full armor and weapons and slaughtered them where they stood. He remembers Sapnap delivering the killing blow as he screamed out for Eret to help them. He still has the scar on his stomach. 

And when he respawned, he shot up out of bed with a pained gasp and his first thought was oh god no please let Tommy still be alive please—

He still has nightmares about it years later. This is the first time Eret has talked to him about it, and Tubbo doesn’t know if he should stop him or not.

“You were both so young, child soldiers in a war you shouldn’t have been in. Somehow I forgot that, and I hurt you both. I killed you both. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Eret sighs, and silence falls again. It doesn’t last long.

“You already know that I adopted Fundy. I’m sure everyone knows at this point, whether they care or not.”

He smiles, but it’s filled with such sadness that Tubbo isn’t sure if it still counts as a smile.

“Fundy’s dad is dead. Wilbur is gone, even if his ghost still remains. And even if I hurt him too, I care about that kid. He’s my son now, and I’ve been trying my best to be the father Wilbur couldn’t be.”

He turns to Tubbo now, and there’s an odd look on Eret’s face that he can’t figure out. 

“I care about you too, Tubbo. I want to protect you. And I know I’ve hurt you before and you have no reason to trust me, but I—“

His voice breaks, and he rests a hand on his chest and clears his throat before continuing, softer now, more nervous.

“I’d like you to be my son too, if you’ll have me.”

The breath catches in Tubbo’s throat.

Eret—

He really wants—

Why would he—?

Tubbo is stunned. This is so unexpected. What the hell is even happening today? Is any of this even real or is he just so sleep deprived that he’s hallucinating now?

After all this time, someone actually wants him—

Phil gave him up when he was young. Schlatt drank himself to death because the stress of being a single father and the president was too much for him. And for a little while, Wilbur took care of him, but that didn’t last very long. 

Tubbo has gone his entire life being too much to handle, an unwanted burden on anyone who thought they could care for him. They always had other responsibilities, other problems, too many things to want to deal with the weird, hyperactive kid. He’s always been last on the priority list, no matter how much they pretended otherwise.

And now Eret is offering him that once again. To be part of a family. It would be a nice sentiment if it didn’t scare him so much. 

Eret is already taking care of Fundy. He’s the king, the figurehead of the Greater SMP alongside Dream, responsible for so many other things. He might make it look easy, but the job must be stressful. Would he really be able to handle all of that and Tubbo? 

And that’s not even mentioning that Tubbo and him are on complete opposite sides, two leaders of two different nations constantly on the brink of war. If war broke out again, they wouldn’t be able to trust each other. There’s no way they could ever make it work. 

If he’s thinking really pessimistically, then this could all just be a ploy to take over L’Manburg. He could be making this offer knowing full well that he’s going to use Tubbo to destroy everything from the inside. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

But it’s so very tempting. 

He barely remembers what life at Phil’s house was like, but he does remember life with Schlatt. In the beginning, it was filled with kind words and fatherly love. His dad was so proud of him, cheering him on in the tournaments he occasionally entered into with Tommy, hanging up all his strange bee drawings on the wall, helping him out with anything and everything. He used to be a good dad, and then he wasn’t.

Can he really take Eret’s offer knowing that it could all happen again? Can he really be sure that Eret is the good father he’s been yearning for? The one he’s needed for such a long time?

“You don’t have to decide now. I know you must be tired. Apologies for bringing this up so suddenly.”

Eret looks away, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of his neck. He looks anxious, practically squirming in place. The longer Tubbo stays silent, the more nervous he gets. He really cares about this, doesn’t he?

Abruptly, Eret stands up, briefly turning back to Tubbo before looking away again.

“I should probably… leave. Apologies again. I’ll refrain from bothering you more for the time being.” 

He heads for the door, before stopping suddenly. He reaches into his pocket, because of course his pajama pants have pockets, and pulls something out.

“I almost forgot. Someone left this in the mailbox. It’s for you.”

He hands the thing to Tubbo, who takes it tentatively, sitting up to look at it better. 

It’s a journal. It’s handmade but obviously made well. There are flowers and bees designed on the front, and there’s even a place to attach a pen. There’s a note sticking out of the pages that says ‘For Tubbo’.

Eret heads for the door again, this time intent on leaving. 

“Eret,” he calls, internally grimacing at how raspy his voice is. He tells himself it’s because of the lack of sleep, nothing else.

Eret freezes and turns back to look at Tubbo again. He looks so nervous, unnaturally so, like he’s waiting for Tubbo to pass judgement. 

He still remembers that room so well, the way Sapnap’s sword plunged into him, the blood flowing out, screaming for Eret to help them please—

He still has nightmares, always the same over and over again. Even if that one has become less frequent over time, he still remembers every detail.

He still remembers the impassive look on Eret’s face as he stood back and watched them die, standing as tall and proud as ever.

But he also saw the way Eret turned away at the last moment as the life was draining out of him. He saw the way he reached a hand up to cover his mouth, swallowing down whatever came up his throat. It was subtle, but Tubbo noticed. He saw and he remembered. 

There was no reason for him to fake that, not when they were all already dead. That was real.

And maybe that was why he agreed to stay at Eret’s place. Maybe, deep down, he knew that Eret regretted it long before he said the words aloud. 

“I forgive you.”

Eret blinks, and Tubbo can see it happen even behind the glasses. He’s surprised, confused even. And then after a second he realizes just what Tubbo is saying. 

He doesn’t know if he can be part of Eret’s family. He might never know. He doesn’t want to decide that right now at least. But he can do this. 

And then Eret smiles, much bigger and much more genuine than Tubbo has seen him show before. All the nervousness leaves him at once, replaced with happiness, excitement, hope.

He bows his head slightly. “Thank you,” he breathes, that big grin still stuck on his face.

Tubbo gives his own hesitant smile back, and Eret straightens up a little, some of that familiar pride returning to him. But it’s not the cold, royal pride he usually has. This is the warm pride of a father, or at least someone who could one day be a father. 

Tubbo thinks he might like that. But he’s not going to decide today. 

And with that, Eret turns on his heel and pulls the door open, stepping out into the hallway. He turns to look at Tubbo over his shoulder one last time, and then he shuts the door with a soft click. Tubbo hears light footsteps retreating down the hallway until they disappear. 

Tubbo keeps that smile on his face even after Eret is gone. Maybe one day he can accept Eret’s offer. 

He turns his attention back to the journal still resting in his hand. He runs his fingers lightly along the designs on the front, wondering who decided to give this to him, what might be written inside. 

He leans back, propping his pillow up against the back of his bed, and gets comfortable. He flips to the first page.

‘Tommy’s Journal!’ it reads, and Tubbo’s smile drops.

This is Tommy’s? Since when does Tommy write? Did he drop this off for Tubbo or did someone else deliver it to him? What could be so important that Tubbo has to read for himself? 

His gaze flicks to the first line after that. It says ‘just saw a baby zombie riding a chicken it was fucking weird’ and that sentence alone almost makes Tubbo laugh incredulously. 

The rest of the page seems to be full of similar things, just notes about random things Tommy has seen. And there’s no capitalization or proper grammar in sight. It makes things confusing to read, but he scans every line, a light smile gracing his face. 

He falls into the calm of reading easily, already absorbed in the journal that apparently Tommy wrote. The concept of it is so strange to him and yet he’s so quick to accept it the further he reads. It’s like a bedtime story.

It’s as he gets deeper into the journal that the words begin to fade from random blurbs to more serious things. 

‘i’ve been thinking about Tubbo lately. i’m pretty sure he hates me now but i still miss him. it’s lonely here’

‘i have my discs back now but it feels like there’s something missing. why am i not satisfied?’

‘i wonder if Ghostbur misses me. i definitely miss him even though that’s really stupid. i’m not a baby!’

It only gets deeper after that. Tommy eventually starts capitalizing his words, like he’s putting more effort into his writing as time goes on. 

‘I called Tubbo Schlatt. I shouldn’t have done that, even if I was really angry. I really fucked up this time. I’m not sure if he’s ever going to forgive me.’

‘I keep getting weird dreams. They’re not very poggers. I keep remembering all the bad shit, all the stuff I don’t want to remember. The last one I got showed me Wilbur dying. I don’t think I’m going back to sleep.’

‘I found another village. This one is near a field of flowers with lots of bees. They sell lots of honey. I don’t have any money left to buy it, but I wish I could bring some back for Tubbo. I might bring him here some day, if he even still wants to spend time with me. I think he would really enjoy this place.’

‘A creeper exploded near me today. It snuck up behind me, but I got away just in time. I had a flashback when it exploded. It took awhile before I stopped shaking enough to write again. I really hate tnt.’

And then there’s a pretty big chunk of the journal just describing Tommy’s life, down to the tiny details sometimes. He writes about some things that Tubbo didn’t even know about, and it makes him sad reading it.

‘I don’t know how long I sat there staring down at the lava. It looked so warm and inviting, and I wasn’t really thinking about anything else. I just wanted to disappear. But Dream stopped me. I don’t remember what he said, but as he led me back to Logstedshire, I still felt so numb. It was nice but also it wasn’t. I don’t know how to describe it. I just wanted to go back to the lava.’

And then, right beside that in the margins, it says ‘I still want to go back to the lava.’ It’s so crossed out that Tubbo can barely read it, but he can see what it says anyway. 

He brings a hand up to his mouth, stifling the weak noise that threatens to slip out. His eyes are getting wet. 

This is—

He had no idea that—

Tommy never told him—

How could he not have seen this before? How did he never notice? Why did Tommy never tell him? 

He frantically searches the next pages, trying to find an answer. But even as Tommy describes reuniting with Tubbo, he never explains himself. It’s never mentioned again, and it makes Tubbo’s stomach turn. 

Tommy just breezed over that little detail so casually, like it was nothing. And Tubbo is left there reeling. 

Dream made him feel that way. Tubbo compared Tommy to Dream—

Silent tears spill over now. He never knew, but that’s no excuse. He should have known. He should have figured it out ages ago. Maybe if he just spent more time with Tommy. Maybe if he wasn’t always so focused on work. 

Tommy has been dealing with this for months, and Tubbo never noticed. 

He’s a horrible friend. He should have noticed.

He keeps reading, desperate to know more, to understand.

Tommy writes about his life up until the point where he leaves Phil’s house, and then he moves on. After that, he starts describing people.

Tubbo realizes as he reads that there’s an order to it, from the people Tommy knows the least about to the people he knows the best. 

Tubbo wipes at his eyes, smiling now as Tommy describes happier things. 

‘I asked Phil where babies come from once and he spit out his coffee. It got all over Techno, and he stared me dead in the eye as his face was dripping and said ‘They come from piglin trades’ and Phil started coughing so hard I think he almost suffocated to death. That was the day he almost lost his last life.’

Tubbo can’t help but laugh at that one, sniffling a little. He remembers Tommy telling him about that once, and the two of them had laughed their asses off. They started calling it ‘The Baby Incident’ and referenced it relentlessly for almost a week straight. Nobody had a clue what they were talking about, but the two of them thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world whenever they brought it up.

Wilbur’s description starts out really fun and happy, but it soon ends up becoming sad. It feels like it takes more effort to breathe than usual as he reads the last few paragraphs. 

The worst part is when Tommy tried to remember some of the lyrics Wilbur came up with when he was younger, but the less he remembered the more frustrated he got. The last page is scribbled out entirely, almost completely black with the amount of ink he used on it. And on the back of that page, turned grey from the scribbles on the other side, it’s blank except for a few words.

‘I’m so sorry Wilbur’

After that, he talks about Tubbo.

There are so many pages. Every time he turns a page expecting that to be the end of it, there’s more. It’s like it goes on forever. 

That’s not even mentioning what Tommy actually had to say about him. And it really is a lot. 

‘Tubbo loves bees. I don’t know why he loves bees, nobody does, but it’s his favorite thing in the world. I have a few theories though…’

And then he goes on to list increasingly outlandish possible reasons why Tubbo loves bees. This includes ‘Bees are aliens. Tubbo loves space so he has to love aliens too, and if bees are aliens—which they are—then Tubbo has to love bees too.’ which is probably one of the funniest things Tubbo has read so far.

He even goes on to list practically all the bees Tubbo has ever interacted with in his life with shocking accuracy. He remembers things that even Tubbo himself has forgotten. 

It twists at his heart, knowing that even if Tommy doesn’t care about bees at all, he cares so passionately about whatever Tubbo cares about. He cared to remember so many tiny details about each bee’s behaviors and which hive they belonged to and what flowers were their favorite, not because he cared but because Tubbo did. 

He never knew Tommy could care so much about something so small and insignificant. He didn’t need to remember any of that, Tubbo wouldn’t have cared either way, but he put the effort into it anyway, and he still remembers even after all this time. 

There are so many pages of just little things like that. Tommy notices everything and remembers it all just as well, and Tubbo reads and reads until he starts to forget that this journal is supposed to be Tommy’s and not his. 

Tommy never really explicitly says that he cares about Tubbo as his closest friend, but he doesn’t need to. Tubbo can read between the hundreds or maybe thousands of lines of words, each one getting more and more in depth. He sees it in the way Tommy describes every detail of their interactions down to the individual flowers on the ground or change in the wind or what Tubbo was wearing at the time. He sees it in the way he goes on forever and ever about just Tubbo. He sees it in the way the pages abruptly stop, how he makes a little note in the margins about running out of space and needing a new journal just to finish writing about Tubbo.

And maybe someone out there would find this creepy, overly obsessive, but Tubbo finds it endearing. He sees all this and he wonders if he could write just as much about Tommy in turn. He wonders if he should get his own journal as well, just to find out. 

He remembers what he said earlier, implying that they weren’t best friends. But looking at this, he wonders why he ever doubted Tommy in the first place.

He can’t imagine how badly those words must have hurt. If they hurt Tubbo badly enough to not sleep all night, he wonders just how much worse it was for Tommy. 

He wonders if Tommy is thinking of that lava now.

He gets the sudden urge to go out and find him, to apologize for what he said. He was just angry and he didn’t realize what his words could have done to Tommy’s mind. But he understands now, and he wants to fix it. He wants them to be best friends again, so Tommy can keep filling up journals until his heart’s content.

But he’s almost done reading through the entire journal, so he might as well read until the end. He can’t imagine that Tommy will be going far anytime soon. He’s already travelled a lot in the past month and he must be tired. Tubbo is just going to finish reading, and then he’ll go find his best friend.

His mind made up, he flips to the next page. 

Tommy mostly writes random notes again after that, jumbling up his thoughts, observations, realizations, and more. Anything that doesn’t fit in the rest of the journal goes there. There is a brief section that’s called ‘The Stupid List’ where he just writes down a bunch of stupid things that everyone has done, mostly in order. It’s kind of funny actually, but Tubbo doesn’t spend too much time on that. 

Then there’s a bunch of pages where he talks about returning to L’Manburg, how excited he is to see everyone, but especially Tubbo. He mentions that he hopes Tubbo is proud of him for finally getting the discs back.

Tubbo feels a surge of guilt. Tommy just wanted to make him happy, apologize for their argument without having to say the words out loud. And Tubbo rejected him instead. 

He finally reaches the last of the pages, skimming through a lot of the random notes until he finally reaches the very end. 

The last two pages start with ‘For Tubbo’ written at the top, and he holds the journal closer to his face in anticipation. 

‘Hey Tubbo. I don’t know if you’re ever going to read this but I need to speak my mind. I hope you’re reading this though. That would be pog.

I’m writing this after our argument. The second one anyway. I’ve been talking with Sam—y’know the tall guy with the weird I mean cool mask—and he’s been helping me figure some things out. He’s also helping me write this. 

Anyway, I realized I’ve been an ass lately. I haven’t been listening to you or really thinking about other people besides myself. 

I want you to know that you’re not your dad. He was inconsiderate and cruel and took out his issues on other people. You’re so much better than him. You’re kind and put everyone else’s needs above your own and you’re so fun to be around that I don’t know why anyone would ever want to fight you in the first place. You’re courageous and smart and so strong that it’s really no surprise you make being president look like a breeze. You might be Schlatt’s kid, but you’re ten times the person he ever could have been.

I also want you to know that there’s no way I’m ever going to forgive Dream for what he did, but I think there’s still a chance for me to move on. I’m going to go apologize to Dream myself, without Sam’s help, and it’s going to suck but it’s something I need to do. After that, I’ll leave him alone. As long as he doesn’t fuck with me then I won’t fuck with him. That’s the best I can do right now.

I’m leaving behind the discs. They don’t matter anymore. It feels like they’re so important and it hurts to just throw them away like this after everything I went through to get them back, but I keep thinking about what you said. You are way more important to me than they ever were.

And lastly, I’m so sorry Tubbo. I’ve been a bad person and it feels like I’m turning more into Dream or Wilbur with each passing day. I don’t want to feel like that anymore. I’m going to try and be better. For your sake at least. I’m sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me, but it’s fine if you don’t. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy too. That’s all I can really ask for. 

One last time, I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon. Try not to wait up on me nerd. 

ily

-Tommy’

And Tubbo sits there, stunned, staring at the pages with watering eyes. 

This is…

He can barely process the words, has to read them a few times over before they really set in and he starts crying for real. 

This is…

He doesn’t know what this is. All he knows is he wants his friend back. He wants Tommy back so badly right now it hurts, a deep ache settling in his chest. 

He wants his friend back. He wants to tell Tommy he forgives him, wants to ask for Tommy’s forgiveness as well. 

He’s going to get his friend back. 

Tubbo leaps out of bed, stumbling over to the door with the journal still clutched half open in his hand. He swings the door open and quickly makes his way down the hallway towards the stairs. 

“Eret!” he calls, his voice breaking. 

He’s going to get his friend back. He needs Tommy back now. 

“Eret!” he calls again as he races down the stairs, almost slipping on the smooth stone floor. Normally he would wear his slippers or shoes when he’s out of his room. His socks don’t have any traction against the parts of the castle not lined with carpet like the stairs. But he doesn’t care about that now. He’s focused on more important things.

“Eret!” he calls once more as he reaches the first floor. Eret usually sleeps in the huge bedroom on the complete opposite side of the castle. He wastes no time trying to get there.

But Eret must have heard him at some point, because he’s already coming around the corner, concern painting his face again. He meets Tubbo halfway, long strides carrying him must faster. 

Tubbo is already talking before Eret even reaches him, mumbling words so fast that he can’t even understand himself. One hand tangles in his hair and the other flails the journal around wildly. 

And then Eret reaches out and pulls him in for a hug. 

Tubbo freezes, words dying on his tongue. Eret holds him firmly but not too tight, and it feels so warm. 

This is… 

When was the last time he was hugged like this? It has to have been ages. 

Tommy has hugged him before. But those were short, friendly hugs, more like pats on the back than anything. 

This is the kind of hug a parent gives their child, and Tubbo can practically feel his brain fizzing out as he tries to remember how long it’s been since he’s felt something like this. 

A memory pops into his head, and he latches onto it. He remembers a day years ago when Schlatt was still alive, when he was still a good father. Tubbo had entered into his first tournament with Tommy and Techno on the same team. He was nervous as he talked with the other players, waiting for games to begin. He was also excited, happy to have the famous Technoblade on his team and even happier that Tommy was there to help him. 

He remembers Schlatt cheering so loudly from the audience. He would shout insults at the other teams and he was only forced to stop giving them tips when he got in an argument with security. To this day, Tubbo still doesn’t know what he said to convince them to let him stay, and even when Tubbo asked Schlatt would just give him a cheeky grin. 

Any time he got nervous and almost chickened out mid-game, he would hear his dad’s voice and it would never fail to give him a surge of confidence. He knew his dad would protect him no matter what, so as long as Schlatt was there then he had nothing to fear. 

And when the tournament came to a close and Tubbo and his team made it to third place and got shiny medals to match, he remembers casually talking with Tommy as they walked over the bridge. And then suddenly he was in someone’s arms. Schlatt had curled around Tubbo so carefully, protectively, holding him so close he was practically crushing his shoulders. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he had said, and Tubbo had melted against him, wrapping his own arms around his dad in turn. And when he refused to let go even when Schlatt tried to release him, his dad ended up carrying him all the way back to the house. Tommy had complained the entire time, also wanting to get carried because his feet were apparently so sore, and Schlatt teased him for whining like a baby, and the two had gone at it for almost an hour. 

He remembers being tucked into bed. He remembers how he smiled and closed his eyes, exhausted after so much activity, how his dad gently brushed his hair away from his face, the way he sighed fondly and plucked the bee plushie up from the floor to tuck it under the blanket as well. And then he pulled away, leaving with the soft click of the door behind him. 

Tubbo hasn’t thought of that day in a long time. That wasn’t the last time that Schlatt ever hugged him, but it was the most memorable, and it’s the one he thinks of now as Eret holds him. He almost forgot what it felt like, to get a hug like this. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, and Tubbo can hear the sleepiness in his voice. He probably woke him up, and he feels a little guilty for that. 

Tubbo unfreezes, slumping against Eret as he wraps his own arms around him. It feels so nice, and he wishes he could stay here forever. 

But he called for Eret for a reason, so he has to pull away briefly to look up at his face as Eret tilts his head in curious concern. 

“I need to find Tommy,” he says seriously, and Eret purses his lips. 

“It’s important,” he insists, and holds up the last pages of the journal for Eret to see. 

He scans the pages quickly, his brow furrowing the more he reads, and he turns back to Tubbo, who lowers the journal back down.

“He’s going to Phil’s house? Does he even know the way there? I know he hasn’t been in years. Wait, why do you need to find him so badly if you already know where he is?”

Tubbo shakes his head, more tears building up in his eyes. “I need to find him now. I said some really bad things and I don’t want him to keep thinking that I hate him because I care about him so much and I need to tell him that right now or he’s gonna keep thinking I hate him but I don’t and—!”

Eret shushes him softly, rubbing a hand up and down Tubbo’s back. “Slow down. Take deep breaths.”

And even if Tubbo is practically vibrating with nervous energy, he still listens and breathes in and out slowly, his shoulders dropping as he goes. 

“Now, how are you going to find him?”

Tubbo forces himself to be calm and collected as he answers. “I know the way to Phil’s house, and I know Tommy well enough to know if he makes any detours on the way there. I’m pretty sure he already left which means he has a head start, so I can probably get to him by the time he reaches Phil’s house.”

Eret nods decisively and pulls away from Tubbo entirely, who almost whines at the loss. “I’ll go get my boots and pack food. And wake up Fundy.”

And then he’s gone in the blink of an eye, probably already rushing around the castle. Tubbo blinks.

Eret wasn’t supposed to come with him. Tubbo was supposed to do this on his own. Tommy is his best friend after all. And now Eret has just invited himself and Fundy along like it’s just an average family road trip. 

And Tubbo’s mind blanks on that word. Family.

Eret is coming along because he cares about Tubbo, genuinely, or else he would just let Tubbo go on his own. It’s like he never even considered that as an option, and that alone makes Tubbo feel all warm and fuzzy.

Eret offered to be his dad. Tubbo hasn’t even given an answer yet and he’s already filling in the role anyway. It’s nice to be cared for like this again after so many years. 

Road trip with Eret and Fundy. He thinks that sounds pretty nice. 

A smile finds its way to his face, and it stays there even as he races back up to his room to pack his own things. 

Somewhere out there, Tommy is trying to make things right, unaware that Tubbo is about to hunt him down, probably bodily tackle him to the ground, and make sure he knows that the two of them are still best friends. Even if he has to beat it into that thick skull, he’s going to make sure Tommy knows. 

That’s a promise, and one he won’t be breaking anytime soon.

He clutches the journal in his hands, running his fingers along the designs on the front. 

He’s going to make this right. He’s going to get his best friend back.

And somewhere else in the world, a man in a creeper mask sleeps peacefully for the first time in months.

Somewhere else, two discs lie on a jukebox, broken into pieces and abandoned.

And somewhere else still, at some other time, a boy finds himself on a mountain and knocks on a door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this entire chapter was going to be from Tommy’s perspective, complete with a scene where he breaks the discs and everything, and then I randomly got the idea to write Tubbo too and it completely screwed up how I wanted to write this chapter, but I like Eret being a dad too much to change it.   
> The next chapter is going to be from Dream’s, Techno’s, and maybe Phil’s perspectives immediately after Tommy leaves up until he comes back again almost two weeks later.   
> 💜


	21. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the immediate aftermath after Tommy is kicked out. Enjoy!  
> 💜

Techno almost mindlessly rocks himself and Dream back and forth, the kid in his arms slowly quieting down as he tires himself out. This isn’t the first time they’ve been in this position, but he really hopes it will be the last. He hates seeing Dream this way. 

Dream’s cries have turned into occasional sniffles and hitched breaths. He’s completely limp and relaxed as he rests against Techno’s chest, all the frantic, fearful energy from earlier gone. 

Techno leans back and adjusts his legs to be more comfortable, but he freezes when Dream tenses up and whines, burrowing his head under Techno’s chin. One of Dream’s hands untangles from the cape to shakily clutch at his chest with a little gasp.

Something is wrong, Techno realizes. Dream looks like he’s in pain. He seemed fine earlier, physically speaking. The amount of blood coating his clothes and hands is terrifying, but Techno figured it all came from either the corpses outside, Phil, or both. 

If he wasn’t holding onto Dream, he would smack himself for not realizing earlier. Dream must be injured, probably something internal with the way he’s holding his chest. He really needs to get the full story on what happened here eventually because the long list of things he doesn’t know is only getting longer and it’s starting to get ridiculous. 

“You’re hurt,” he says, and Dream turns his head just enough for Techno to see one of his tired, pain-filled, bright green eyes. He doesn’t wait for a response before gently moving them both so Techno can pick him up and deposit him on the couch. He tries to ignore the raspy whimpers and tiny whines coming from Dream’s throat. 

When he moves to lean back, Dream latches onto the front of his shirt, preventing him from moving any farther away. His face is mostly hidden behind bloodied blonde hair, but Techno can make out the pleading look easily.

He wraps a hand around Dream’s too-thin wrist. It would be so easy to break, he seems so fragile now, but instead Techno gently pries his fingers away. Dream reluctantly lets him, his shoulders rising as he turns his head away and brings his hand back to his chest. 

Techno huffs lightly and crouches down on the floor in front of Dream. He’s big enough that even with Dream sitting up on the couch and Techno on the floor, they’re almost at eye level. 

He goes to tug on Dream’s hoodie, silently asking permission. Dream nods and lifts his arms a bit. Techno doesn’t fail to notice the wince. 

He grabs the hoodie in both hands and very carefully lifts it up and over Dream’s head. There’s more whines and painful gasps during the process, until finally the hoodie comes off. It’s dropped on the couch beside Dream in a heap of mostly red.

Techno internally cringes at what he sees. 

Dream’s entire front is covered in bruises of all shapes and colors, a patchwork of purples, yellows, greens, and browns. It’s mostly centered around his ribcage, fading out farther down his torso. There’s more dried blood there too, adding dark red to the gruesome color palette on his skin. 

It looks painful, and judging by the way Dream’s face is contorted in extreme discomfort even now when he’s not moving, Techno thinks it must be. 

“M-my ribs…” Dream mumbles. He points vaguely towards his ribcage and winces at the small movement. 

Techno grimaces internally, knowing what he has to do. He carefully reaches out, and Dream tenses in preparation. 

He pokes and prods lightly at each of his ribs, testing to see which ones are broken or fractured. Dream makes little noises of pain throughout the process, his hands gripping the cushions hard enough to rip the thread. Techno tries to avoid the worst of the bruising, but it’s kind of difficult seeing as there’s bruising everywhere. 

He pokes one rib in particular somewhere near the bottom of his ribcage and suddenly Dream flinches away. He clenches his eyes shut, bites his cheek hard enough to draw blood, and stops breathing. 

“Hey, Dream,” Techno says worriedly, but he gets no response. 

“Dream, you need to breathe. Come on.” He puts a hand on Dream’s shoulder, hoping to ground him a bit more.

He sucks in a tiny amount of air, and then he lets out a long whine, shifting on the couch as if he can somehow escape the pain. He opens his eyes to watch Techno, and he’s stuck by the pure exhaustion and agony he finds in that gaze. Dream reluctantly starts breathing again, slow and shallow at first, and then deep breaths like Techno encourages him to do. Each inhale or exhale is punctuation by a groan or whimper that tears at Techno’s heart.

Once he’s deemed Dream well enough to continue, he gives the kid a murmured apology and pokes at the same rib again. He needs to figure out just how extensive the damage is.

Dream cries out and immediately flings out a hand. Techno expects the kid to push him away, maybe grab his hand to stop him. Instead, Dream grabs the end of his cape and holds on for dear life, still breathing deeply despite the pain. He glances at Techno pleadingly, wishing for this to be over quick.

As Techno checks his rib, he makes sure to mutter praises and reassurances to Dream as he goes. The kid needs them, and he’s more than willing to provide. 

He figures out the rib is broken. That means recovery time is going to take a lot longer than it would if it was just a fracture. And if it manages to hit anything important…

“Okay, that’s the worst of it. Just have to check the rest and then we’re golden.”

Dream whines brokenly, leaning forward like he wants to hide his face in Techno’s chest but thinking better of it. 

His heart really can’t take this much aching. His little brother is in pain and there’s barely anything he can do to stop it. 

It’s always the same. No matter how powerful Techno gets, no matter how many monsters or enemies he defeats, he can never truly save any of his brothers. He can’t fight pain and despair with a sword or crossbow. 

He’s always aimed to protect his family, but is he truly protecting them from what really matters? 

He couldn’t stop Wilbur’s insanity. He couldn’t help Tommy in a time of need. He’s barely helping Dream, one slow, agonizing rib at a time. Hell, he couldn’t even protect Phil from a bunch of pillagers. 

Has Techno outlived his usefulness? Is there any hope of defeating the monsters of the mind or is he doomed to fail?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now is not the time to have an existential crisis. 

Techno checks the rest of his ribs, trying his best to ignore the pained sounds and the way Dream practically writhes on the couch. He still breathes deeply, and when Techno praises him for doing so well Dream looks like he could burst into tears. 

There don’t seem to be any more serious breaks, although he does find at least three fractures. He pulls his hands away and Dream sobs and slumps in relief. He doesn’t let go of the cape.

Techno frowns. He should find some bandages to wrap up Dream’s chest and keep that broken rib from hitting something vital, but he doesn’t think Dream is going to let go of him anytime soon. He glances around, hoping that maybe there are some spare medical supplies nearby, but all of it is on the floor or the table on the opposite side of the room, too far away to reach without getting up.

With a sigh, he turns back to Dream, and the kid must see his intentions clearly on his face because he grimaces and whines, his grip on Techno’s cape tightening. Dream’s breath stutters, squinting like he’s about to cry again. 

Techno hates seeing his brother like this. He wants to stay here forever and let Dream hold on, but those ribs need to be treated now. They’ve been left alone for long enough, and the risk of internal bleeding rises with every minute. 

As much as Dream is hurting now, it’s going to be so much worse if he ends up respawning. Respawning only heals enough to stop a person from immediately dying again, but it’s not an instant fix. It’s far too easy to move too much and tear everything open again, forcing another respawn right after that. And it hurts. A lot. 

Techno himself has never experienced a respawn for himself. He still has all of his lives. But he has experienced death before. He escaped execution with a totem of undying, after all.

The totems don’t work the same way as a respawn. Where a respawn is a natural process that teleports a person to the last safe place they slept and uses up the body’s remaining energy to heal the worst wounds, leaving the rest to heal on their own as the person recovers over time, a totem is an unnatural thing created by the evokers that use them. When someone dies with a totem, they die, and instead of getting healed the totem sort of reverses time, returning the body to a state where it was never hurt in the first place. 

That’s not to say that it doesn’t also have a cost. Techno has experienced it for himself, and he would prefer to never experience it again. 

He felt that anvil land on his head. He felt his neck snap, his bones crunching as he collapsed to the floor of his cage. He felt unbelievable pain, blood flowing from his body, everything going numb as the life faded from him. He felt death.

And then, he felt the void. The infinite darkness that stretches on forever and ever, and he was helplessly limp as he tumbled through it, unable to comprehend what was happening. He felt an approaching warmth, a tugging on his soul trying to get him to go somewhere. He almost respawned, but the totem stopped him. It yanked him back with more force than an angry ravager, forcing fiery, painful life back into his corpse. It forced him to stand back up, his death completely erased. No blood, no pain, no broken bones, and yet the phantom feeling still remained even weeks later, no matter what he tried to do to ignore it. Occasionally, he would have a bad day and it would feel like he’s dying all over again, those few seconds stretching out into hours. 

Physically, he was fine, but emotionally… He’s still not sure. 

If respawning is anything like that, then he’s going to prevent Dream from ever having to experience that, not if he can help it.

He sighs. “I won’t go far, I promise. I’ll only be gone for a minute, okay?” 

Dream looks like he really wants to protest. He’s desperate for comfort right now, and Techno is struggling not to just give it to him. He needs to make sure Dream isn’t about to die first. He has to remind himself of that. 

Finally, Dream let’s go of the cape. His arm falls limp on the couch and he squeezes his eyes shut. At least he’s still breathing deeply. At least he’s still alive.

Reluctantly, Techno stands up and focuses on gathering everything he needs to help his brother. 

He snatches up the extra bandages on the table, and it’s as he’s reaching for them that he remembers Phil is here too. 

He’s far more heavily injured than Dream, absolutely covered from head to toe in bandages with many stitches probably hidden underneath. Just like Dream, he’s also still coated in layers of dried blood and grime. At least Phil is stable and not in any pain. He’s fast asleep, his wings pinned behind his back and wrapped securely with his peaceful-looking face pressed into the cushions and one arm dangling limp off the side. 

Techno will check on him later, making sure to leave a mental note in his head. Even if it doesn’t look like he’s in danger of dying right now, that could easily change any moment. But right now his focus is on Dream, whose wounds likely haven’t been taken care of for hours or longer. 

He fills up a bowl with water and swipes a few clean rags from the kitchen. He finds a regeneration potion, fills another, smaller bowl with ice, and carries all of it back over to Dream, who looks like he’s trying very hard to stay very still and ignore the pain. He’s not sure how well it’s working, but by the twisted expression on Dream’s face, he figures not very well.

And when Techno kneels in front of him again, he squints his eyes open and there’s a dazed, tired, but almost relieved look there that makes Techno’s heart clench.

Focusing on the present, he takes one of the rags and dips it in the water, squeezes out the excess, and carefully reaches over to start cleaning Dream up. 

He’s extremely gentle with it, barely applying any pressure at all, and the water is warm so hopefully the experience isn’t too bad. Dream winces and flinches and whines, but still manages to hold mostly still and isn’t quite as tense as he was before.

Techno sees the way Dream is gripping the couch cushions and wonders why he’s suddenly choosing not to latch onto Techno again like he expected him to. But after a particularly obvious flinch, Techno takes matters into his own hands, literally, by reaching out the hand he doesn’t really need right now to hold onto Dream’s.

When Dream seems to understand what Techno is trying to do, he latches on instantly, gripping Techno’s hand so hard it almost hurts. Even though Dream has barely gained any of his muscle back, his grip is surprisingly strong. If Techno was any less tough, he thinks he might be able to hear his bones grinding together. 

He manages to get rid of most of the blood on Dream’s chest, and as he begins cleaning everywhere else where there’s much less bruising, the kid slowly relaxes, his hand in Techno’s going lax but still holding firm.

It doesn’t seem like Dream has any open wounds. There’s a few scrapes here and there that will probably scab over, but otherwise nothing concerning. 

When Techno moves on to his back, he finds more bruising there and grimaces as he remembers seeing Tommy shove him into a wall. Tommy probably didn’t contribute too much to the bruises there, but the fact that he contributed at all is…

With his chest and back clean, Techno grabs a roll of bandages and starts wrapping. He finds the broken rib again and pays special attention to that spot, doing his best to splint the bone without restricting Dream’s breathing too much, finding the perfect amount of pressure. Dream relaxes into the couch, relieved. 

He moves on to cleaning Dream’s arms next, and then down to his hands. Dream reluctantly lets go of Techno’s hand for that part, but he latches on again as soon as Techno is done, prompting a teasing grin that makes Dream glance away in embarrassment. But he doesn’t let go.

It’s only when Techno cleans Dream’s other hand that he finally finds an actual flesh wound. There’s a gash in the space between his thumb and pointer finger big enough to be painful but not enough to be really worrying. Dream stares idly as he cleans and wraps the wound, like he didn’t even realize the injury was there in the first place. 

With that done, he grabs a new rag and moves to clean Dream’s face. 

He swipes a chunk of grime from his cheek, prompting a grimace from both of them. Dream closes his eyes and lets Techno get the rest.

It’s as he’s doing this that Techno realizes how many scars Dream has. It’s difficult to see them past the bruising covering a big portion of his torso, but they’re clearly visible on his face. He spends a moment staring at the long gash stretching from his right eyebrow down over the bridge of his nose to his left cheek. 

He remembers that scar. It’s the one Techno gave him. 

That duel the two of them had years and years ago wasn’t the very start of their friendship, but it was a very important part. They were more or less friendly rivals at the time, improving their combat skills on each other, constantly pushing each other to their limits. They never really talked outside of sparring.

Then they had that duel, and there was a moment where Techno swung his sword down and Dream tried to dodge out of the way but wasn’t quite fast enough. His mask split in half mid-battle. 

There was a split second where Techno saw his face, his true face that he always kept so well hidden, and Dream had stared back with wide, shocked eyes. It was the most emotion Techno had ever seen on him before, his expression always hidden even if he used to be much more expressive in the way he moved back then. 

And then Dream had blinked, like his mind finally caught up with what happened, and he had fallen to the ground, both hands rushing up to cover his face. There were hundreds of people in the audience roaring so loudly, but none of them had seen anything. Dream’s hood covered most of his head, and they were all too far away to make out any distinct features. But Techno had seen. It was so fast that he could barely process it, probably wouldn’t have recognized Dream in a crowd without his mask if given the opportunity, but he still saw. 

Techno won the duel, and Dream had snatched the pieces of his mask off the ground and fled the arena as soon as he could, still shielding his face from the many people trying to crane their necks to see him closer. 

He remembers being handed the prize money, everyone congratulating him, but he barely paid attention to any of it. He kept thinking about Dream, worrying about him, wondering if he should apologize.

He had found Dream, after. He was hiding out in the armor room, sitting hunched over on a bench as he frantically tried to fix his mask. Techno remembers that when he walked in, Dream was so startled he almost dropped it, and he found it worrying at the time but amusing after the fact. 

Dream’s back was to him, so his face was hidden once again, and Dream had pulled his hood farther up to keep it that way, refusing to turn and look at Techno. 

“Are you having some trouble there?” he had asked teasingly but with a hint of concern that Dream couldn’t hear. 

“Oh fuck off. I’m busy here, in case you couldn’t tell.” Techno could tell he was stressed, his shoulders almost reaching his ears and his hands fumbling with the slime ball he was trying to use to stick the halves of his mask together. He was getting increasingly frustrated when it kept not working. 

And Techno decided to take pity on him. He walked right up to Dream, not pausing even when he saw Dream tense up and freeze, and plucked the mask right out of his hands from over his head, careful not to lean over far enough to see his face. 

“Hey!” 

Dream tried to grab it back, one hand awkwardly keeping his hood obscuring his face as he lunged. But Techno simply stepped back out of his range and began fiddling with the mask himself. He saw Dream practically shaking with frustration, looking like he was about to start screaming, but Techno wasn’t worried.

He smeared more of the slime along the split and stuck the mask together, keeping the two halves firmly in place as the excess slime was squeezed out of the crack. He carefully smoothed the bubbles and lumps out on both sides and gave it all a few moments to harden. And then he handed it right back to Dream all in one piece. 

Dream looked surprised, even if the most Techno could see of him was part of his mouth. He took the mask back tentatively, turning it over in his hand in shock.

“It’s still pretty brittle right now, so give it another minute to solidify before putting it on, but that should fix it.”

And Techno was fully prepared to leave it at that and move on. He even turned around to walk out, but Dream’s voice stopped him.

“Why…?”

Techno turned around and raised an eyebrow at his rival/friend. Dream had tilted his head in confusion.

“Everyone wants to know what my face looks like. People have been demanding I take off my mask for as long as I can remember. I know you only got a glimpse, probably not enough to remember very clearly. Aren’t you curious? I thought—“ Dream stopped abruptly, shutting his mouth with an audible click.

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Thanks for the help.”

Dream rolled his shoulder and fully turned away dismissively. But at that point Techno felt obligated to stay. It felt like an important moment, something he should pay attention to, and he listened to that instinct.

“I respect your privacy, as should everyone else. And you’re right, I didn’t see enough to remember clearly, but that doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have broken your mask in the first place. That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

Dream chuckled. “First you break my mask and then you fix it? You’re sending a lot of mixed signals here, Techno,” he teased dryly. But there was something else in his tone too. And Techno grabbed hold of it.

“Why do you wear a mask, Dream?”

Dream had startled, half turning towards Techno in surprise. And then, after a moment, he looked away, considering his answer.

“I… don’t really know. It helps, I guess. It’s like—when I’m not wearing it, I feel vulnerable, like I’m in a forest at night with no armor or weapons to defend myself. It helps me feel safe. Calm and composed. I don’t know.”

And Techno had nodded along, even if Dream couldn’t see it. It made sense. Techno wears his crown and cape and always has his sword within reach for kind of the same reason. He only takes them off when he’s in a casual setting with friends or family. 

“Then I apologize for taking that away from you. I’ll be more careful in the future. But to answer your question, I don’t particularly care about what you look like. That’s never mattered to me.”

Dream fiddled with his mask in his hands, and from the angle that his face was turned, Techno could barely make out part of his nose and chin, shadows covering the rest.

“Then what does matter to you?”

Techno didn’t have to think about his answer for that one. He replied without hesitation.

“You’re my friend, Dream. That bond is far more important to me than what you might look like. I’d much rather keep that bond and let it grow than ruin it over something so trivial.” 

Silence fell between them, and Techno could see one piercing green eye looking up at him. 

“You really mean that?” he asked softly. He seemed so small and breakable, vulnerable in a way Techno wasn’t familiar with seeing. He didn’t realize that his words would have such an effect, and it felt like a delicate situation, something to handle with care, like one wrong move could shatter everything. So he leaned into his instincts and trusted that whatever he said next would be the right thing.

“Of course. You matter to me, Dream. And anyway, what would I ever do without my favorite sparring partner?”

And he saw Dream smile. 

He straightened then, like he was preparing for something, and with a deep breath he abruptly pulled his hood down and turned to fully face Techno.

Dream willingly showed him his face, with the scabbing over gash and all. He put his trust in Techno, felt safe enough to be vulnerable around him. 

He shared a piece of his soul with Techno that day, and he paid that kindness back as much as he could. He split the money he earned from the duel, used his own half to immediately go out and commission someone to create a new mask, identical to the original, and tipped a good amount extra to make sure it was made as quickly as possible. And Dream had such a big grin on his face when Techno presented it to him days later. 

Since then, they’ve only grown closer, and now here they sit not as friends but as brothers.

Techno must have paused for too long, because Dream curiously reaches up to find what Techno is looking at so intently, his fingers lightly brushing along the old scar. 

It’s still a little odd seeing Dream without his mask. Techno got so used to seeing it that it took real effort to imagine Dream without it. But now he doesn’t have a mask anymore. 

“Do you miss wearing it? Your mask, I mean,” he asks as he tries to wipe off a particularly stubborn patch of blood on his forehead. “I could get you another one if you want.”

Dream glances away for a moment.

“I—“

A groan from the other couch interrupts him, prompting both of them to snap their heads up in concern. 

Phil had apparently woken up at some point while Techno wasn’t paying attention and decided that trying to move was a great idea. He’s propped up on one arm, the other clutching at what must be a pretty painful spot under his ribs where blood is soaking through the bandages. He’s looking around dazedly, like he’s not quite comprehending what he’s seeing.

Techno is by his side in an instant.

“Hey, Phil, you’re hurt so don’t stress yourself too much—“ 

He manages to coax Phil into lying back down fairly easily, even if Phil probably has no idea what he’s saying. 

Phil blinks and lazily drags his eyes over to look at Techno. He brings a shaking hand up to grasp at his sleeve. 

“Tech…?” 

Techno wraps his own hand around Phil’s wrist, just holding. “Yeah, it’s me dad. I’m back.”

He figures that will be the end of it, but Phil only looks more worried after the confirmation, glancing around slowly. He tugs on Techno’s sleeve.

“Wh… Where’s… Dream?”

Techno dutifully scoots over so Phil can see Dream on the other couch. “He’s right over there. He’s fine.”

When Phil catches sight of Dream, all the worry leaves him immediately. He relaxes against the cushions with a sigh of relief. Even his wings, which Techno is only just now noticing the way they’re moving, stop unconsciously straining against the makeshift binding and fold mostly neatly against his back. 

Techno takes a second to check the wound under Phil’s ribs, thinking he might have ripped his stitches. A quick peek under the bandages shows that it’s fine. The stitching is a little patchy but seems good enough that it doesn’t need to be replaced. The blood must be left over from earlier, nothing recent or alarming, thankfully. 

There’s another tug on his sleeve, and Techno turns back to look at Phil’s face instead. 

“Tommy… and Wil…” he breathes, more of a question than a statement.

There’s an unpleasant knot in Techno’s gut as he answers.

“I don’t know where Wil is. Tommy left. I don’t think he’s coming back.”

It takes a long moment for Phil to process the words, and then he nods and lets go of Techno in favor of putting a protective hand over his wound again. His eyes are a little less glazed over now, and hopefully that’s a good sign. 

Techno has never seen him like this. Phil has never been this injured before, not that Techno can remember. The winged man adopted him after he was already on his last life, so he never saw what injuries might have caused those respawns. With how good Phil is at defending himself and generally not dying, it couldn’t have been pretty. 

Phil has fought hoards of mobs, regularly experimented with charged creepers, collected rare or cool-looking monsters that could easily kill a person in one strike for fun. He even told Techno once that he fought two ender dragons at the same time. He took Techno to see the proof, the massive scars left on his terraformed end island certainly making an impression. 

He’s never seen Phil this close to death before, and it seems so unreal that such a strong person could wind up like this. 

But he knows that there’s a big difference between the Phil now and the Philza he used to be.

Philza was a builder, a traveler. Philza thrived in the deadly, dangerous parts of the world where he made his homes, and although he was careful not to die, he had a carefree attitude about it all. He was fearless, dancing with death almost every day.

But Phil is different. Phil is a father who values his family above all else. And he’s often tired or exasperated and constantly has to wrangle his sons away from doing stupid things, but he cares about them so much. He’s kind and welcoming and worries about his sons far too much for it to really be healthy but he’s always happy when they are. 

By no means is Phil soft, the corpses littered around the front yard are proof of that, but he values different things now. 

The Philza of before would have finished them off without too many problems and gone right back to building. The Phil of now cared about his son too much to risk them reaching him, putting himself in danger instead. 

Techno wonders how different things would be if he was still that fearless builder, if he never adopted Techno or Wilbur or Tommy or Dream. What would have happened to all of them without Phil’s help? Would they be happy? Would any of them even be alive? 

Pushing away his darkening thoughts, Techno focuses on the present. 

Now that Dream’s chest is wrapped, he can focus on Phil and make sure he’s okay. It seems like Tommy did a decent job, but he could’ve easily missed something or treated a wound wrong. 

Techno checks each wound in turn, doing his best to not think about anything else, especially not the way Phil twitches or lets out little huffs in pain. He’s so much quieter than Dream, despite being so much more injured, and somehow that’s even worse. 

All of Phil’s wounds look fine. All except for his wings. Tommy clearly didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t stitch the wounds or clean them at all, just wrapped them enough to stop the bleeding for a while and immobilize the wings. 

To be fair, Techno doesn’t know what he’s doing either. He knows how to take care of a human, not a bird. Even if the flesh itself is pretty much the same, the feathers and more delicate structure complicate things. But it’s not like there are any veterinarians nearby who can tell him what to do, so he just has to try his best.

Phil barely feels a thing as he cleans, stitches, and re-wraps everything, and that’s more than a little concerning. Did he lose too much blood? Is he in shock? Did Tommy give him something for the pain? Is he just trying not to worry Techno too much? Each possibility is as likely as the last.

The stress is starting to pile up. He doesn’t know what happened between when he entered the nether and when he came back. Several days have gone unaccounted for, and he can’t ask anyone for clarification. Phil is so out of it he can barely say a full sentence, Dream is probably so traumatized by Tommy that he’ll go into a panic attack if Techno mentions anything, and Tommy is gone.

For a moment, he debates running after Tommy to bring him back and ask for help. He probably hasn’t gotten too far yet, only about an hour into his journey. If Techno is fast enough, he could catch up. 

He throws the idea away as soon as it comes. There’s no way Tommy would agree to help. Phil isn’t in immediate danger, Techno kicked him out, and Dream is still here. It would only cause more harm to everyone involved. 

Even so, the only other way to find out what happened is to ask Phil once he’s recovered enough, which could take days or even weeks. He might not be able to remember clearly now, let alone days from now. 

That, or he could try to find out for himself. 

He finishes binding Phil’s wings. He doesn’t exactly know why Tommy bound his wings in the first place, there’s probably a fractured bone somewhere he doesn’t know about, but he figures it’s better safe than sorry.

He glances up and realizes Phil is fast asleep. His head is tilted back uncomfortably, his tangled, bloody hair fanned out on the back of the couch. He would look peaceful if not for the streak of blood covering half his face and the soft but painful-sounding wheezes coming from his throat. 

Techno rises, his spine cracking unpleasantly. That’s supposed to be Phil’s thing, the whole old man bit that Techno and his brothers have been poking fun at for years. It’s ironic that now it’s Techno’s turn to be in the same position. It’s sad that there’s no one here to make fun of him for it. The house is so quiet. 

He grabs some more regeneration potions, as many as he can find, and sets them all down on the table. 

He gives one to Dream, who takes it without protest and finishes it all with only a grimace and a light cough. Another is given to Phil, who he has to gently shake awake to get him to drink the potion in the short period where he stays conscious. 

Dream will probably only need the one potion. Phil, on the other hand, is going to need a much more extensive treatment. Techno is not looking forward to the next few days.

While Phil is asleep, he goes through the same cleaning process he went through with Dream, getting as much blood and dirt off as possible. He leaves the wings for another time, only giving them a light wipe-down. It’s going to take far too long to clean each individual feather, and he’s stressed enough as it is. 

By the time he’s done, Dream has also fallen asleep, now curled up on the other couch taking up so little space that it can’t be comfortable. 

Techno carefully moves Dream so he’s lying on his back instead, making sure there’s a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. 

He gives the same treatment to Phil, although he ends up lying on his side instead. Techno has to move a chair over to keep the wings from hanging off the side. He gets the warmest blanket he can find for Phil. 

The living room is cleaned up, all the medical supplies put on the table for later. The couches in the living room probably can’t be saved, and Techno isn’t going to risk moving either of the injured people in the house to find out. There are streaks of blood on several of the walls that he wipes away as well. He tries not to think about why they might be there. 

There’s a few moments where he looks at the small pool of blood in the space between Dream’s bed and table, and he’s filled with rage. The feeling is pushed away quickly, and he doesn’t think on it more as he cleans that up too.

With everything immediately pressing out of the way, he heaves a sigh and trudges back down to the living room. He takes his crown and sets it down on the table. He unclasps his cape and lays it out over the blanket already covering Phil. He takes a chair and sets it down by the table facing both couches and sits down on it heavily. 

He watches his father and brother dutifully, like an iron golem standing guard. If either one of their conditions gets worse overnight, he will know about it. If anything tries to attack them again, Techno will defend them until his dying breath. 

He wasn’t able to protect them before, but he can make sure they stay protected now. 

He sits in that chair and he watches and waits.


End file.
